


A Dream Forgotten

by venomistress



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Assassin's Creed III, F/M, Family, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-08-31 22:39:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 70,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8596537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venomistress/pseuds/venomistress
Summary: Life is not a fairy tale and there are no happy endings. This takes place from 1772 to 1781. I kept everything as canon as possible. It's not exactly a tale of Assassins and Templars. It's more about life and the everyday trials that must be faced. I included some Kanien:keha dialogue. If I got something wrong, let me know. I only know the basic rules of the language.





	1. December 1772

I opened my eyes groggily, aware that I was lying on a bed in a dimly lit room, but unable to believe that it was my own. I sat up slowly and glanced around. The walls were paneled with dark wood that contained few adornments. A large stuffed eagle was was perched on a branch at the far end of the room between the windows. There was a table between two chairs with a game spread out on it and a desk nearby. A warm, cozy fire burning in the hearth built into the wall on my left basking the interior in a soft glow.

I could hear noises nearby and turned my head toward them, feeling it throb from the action. I placed my hand there and felt a large bump on the back. It was tender to the touch. I wasn't sure how it had gotten there. My memories were vague and unclear. The only thing I felt fairly certain of was that I had never been where I was before.

I stood up and quietly walked to the doorway. I could hear voices coming from the room across the hall. Both of them male and unrecognizable. I considered approaching them, but was wary. I looked down the hallway and noticed a door leading outside. Being unsure of the circumstances, I decided to take the exit. As I stepped in that direction, the floorboard creaked. The voices quieted and I paused. I heard movement, footsteps approaching, and a young man appeared in the doorway opposite me. He wore simple deerskin clothes and moccasins. Part of his shoulder length hair was tied back, one stand hung braided at the side of his face. His skin was tanned brown and he had dark hair and eyes. He watched me cautiously as I did the same to him. The quiet was awkward.

“Hi,” I told him, just to break the silence.

He seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in and inclined his head in a sort of greeting. “Hello,” he returned in a gentile voice. “How are you feeling?”

I was still unsure with what was happening, but his concern put me a tad more at ease. “Fine, I guess.”

The other voice spoke from farther inside the room, it sounded older and less proper than the one of the man in front of me. “Connor, why don't you invite our guest to dinner.”

The young man looked over momentarily, then back at me. He gestured for me to come in. “Would you care for something to eat?”

At the mention of food, I felt the early pains of hunger. I wasn't sure when I'd eaten last and would not be opposed to doing so now. I pushed aside my insecurities at the situation and nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”

The boy led me through a kitchen that looked like something from an old movie and into a fancy dinning room. At the head of the table sat and elderly black man who stood stiffly as I entered. His eyes regarded me with kindness as he held out a hand. I shook it polity.

“Welcome to Davenport manor,” he said. “I'm Achilles. The boy is Connor.”

I had guessed the others name from the previous conversation, but the man's name struck. It was the same as the Greek hero. I smiled at the happenstance. The story of Achilles was my favorite.

“I'm Faith,” I introduced myself.

The man grinned at me as though my name entertained him as much as his did me.“Hmm. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“You, too,” I said.

He gestured to the seat at his right and we sat down as Connor brought me a plate of food and a cup of water. I looked at the food. Steamed potatoes, squash and some kind of meat that I didn't find appetizing. I pushed the meat aside with my fork and began to eat the vegetables. They were a little bland and tough, but at least I had food. We ate in an uncomfortable silence where I avoided Connor's occasional glances and he pretended he wasn't watching me. When my plate was mostly empty, I thought about asking for more. I stayed quiet because I felt it would be rude to ask for seconds while there was still food in front of me.

After a period of quiet, Achilles looked at me. “So, Faith, where are you from?”

It was a simple question, but one I wasn't sure how to answer. I couldn't place a permanent home. What little I could recall at present was sketchy and lacked the details to explain anything. I shrugged at him. “New York,” I answered.

Connor frowned at me. “You are not from another country?”

“No,” I told him, unsure why he would think so.

“It's not important,” Achilles stated. “What interests me is how you came to be so far from a settlement without any indications of company, weapons or supplies. You couldn't have made it very far on foot. I can only guess that your horse was either stolen or died from the cold. And as for your injury, were you attacked by bandits or wild animals?”

I stuttered for an answer. I was unsure what had happened to me. I had no marks other than the one on my head. I couldn't imagine having been attacked in any way. Nor could I recall ever owning a horse or a carrying weapon. They were simply not need, as far as I knew.

“I think I fell,” I said.

Achilles nodded slowly. Connor stared at me with doubt. He looked to have questions of his own, but didn't ask them.

“Fortunately,” Achilles spoke, “Connor found you before you suffered further harm. The wilderness isn't a safe place at the best of times, even less so in the winter. You're welcome to spend the night here, if you choose. At least you'll be warm.”

“It's nice of you to offer,” I said. I looked around, attempting to conjure a rebuttal. “But I should really find my home.”

“Home?” Connor repeated with a interested tone. “Where is that?”

I looked at him with an unwillingness to elaborate. The slightly mocking expression he gave me when I failed to answered irritated me. I narrowed my eyes at him. He seemed to find that amusing, but showed it without smile. Achilles got my attention back to him with a low clearing of his throat.

“Stay,” he said. “Or don't. The choice is yours. I'd feel better knowing you were safe here for the night instead of wandering around the countryside in the middle of a snowstorm. But if you insist on leaving, I'll have Connor escort you to the edge of the property.”

I pursed my lips and considered my options. This house, this state of living, was not familiar to me. I noticed the lack of electricity and felt my choices limited. I doubted I'd be able to find transport and – if I did – a better place to stay. Achilles seemed sincere in his offer and apparently it was Connor who had brought me here. I suppose that made me welcomed. I made my choice and nodded.

“Thank you,” I told Achilles. “I'll take you up on your offer.”

The elderly man smiled. “Very well. While Connor washes the dishes, I'd like to hear more about you, and how you acquired such an interesting tattoo.”

I frowned at him. The old man just waited patiently for me to speak as the young man begrudgingly stood and began to clear the table. It was apparent he wanted to hear the story as well. But I really wasn't sure what to say.

“What tattoo?” I asked innocently. I wasn't sure how he knew about the mark on the back of my neck or even that it was there. Or why it was of such importance to him.

Achilles let out a short laugh. “Oh, child. You know very well what I mean.”

I stared at him. This was not a story I told anyone. Ever. It was private. I kept the tattoo hidden so that I wouldn't have to answer such questions. The abuse I'd sustained as a child wasn't shameful, but it was painful to relate.

“How'd you know about it?” I asked.

Achilles' glance was well meaning and respectful. “Connor saw it when he was removing your coat,” he said. “I apologize for the invasion of your privacy, but it was a fortuitous discovery. That mark is familiar to us.”

I stared at him. The unease I felt was replaced by interest. I'd never met anyone who was familiar with such a mark. The few people who'd seen my tattoo had been unsure of it's significance and uncaring of it's origin. I wasn't even sure of what it meant myself.

“You know what this symbol means?” I asked.

Achilles smiled. “You don't.”

I shook my head and - for the first time since meeting him – gave the man my undivided attention.

“It's the symbol of the Assassins,” Achilles told me. I frowned and waited for him to continue. “The Brotherhood has existed in secret for as long as time began. It's an Order who seeks to instill peace and freedom to all and opposes tyranny and injustice violently when need be.”

“You mean like the Hashashins?” I asked. I'd heard a bit about the group of silent killers during the eleventh century from various histories. Most of what I'd learned was written by Marco Polo.

Achilles gave an impressed stare. “Yes,” he said. “Though the Order has existed far longer, that time period was a tuning point in their history. It was around that time that Altair reinvented the Brotherhood and made it much how it is today.”

“The legends say the Assassins were all killed by the Mongols.”

That gained me a knowing smile. “Not all legends are true. The Assassins still exist, though they are far fewer in number than they once were.” There was a far away look in Achilles' eyes, then he composed himself and regarded me again with interest. “That is why I find your tattoo so intriguing, Faith. So few are familiar with the culture or choose not to believe it. It's rare to find anyone with whom such things can be shared.”

I began to understand what he meant and found it fascinating. “How is it that you know all the history, Achilles?”

The old man failed to answer. He looked at the doorway of the kitchen to where Connor had been standing for the last couple minutes. He stood up. “We can speak more tomorrow,” he said. “I'm turning in for the night. Connor will show you where you may rest.”

Achilles left the room and I looked at Connor. The other watched me with an indiscernible expression for a moment. I found this entire situation to be weird and confusing, but my only thought was to just run with it. I stood up and Connor led me upstairs. I looked about the house as I followed him. It was nice, in a quaint, timeless sort of way. It was charming even in the state of discord. The walls needed a fresh coat of paint and the wood floors would benefit from staining, but the beauty was evident. The decorations were scant, and it lacked a homey feel. But with a little attention, I knew it could be a wonderful residence.

Connor led me to a bedroom at the far end of the hall. The interior of which was a drastic change from the rest of the house. It contained native décor and was cluttered and messy with frequent use. I looked around at the headdress, pipe and woven blankets. Then I looked at Connor.

“Is this your room?” I asked needlessly.

He nodded. “We do not have a spare bed, so you may sleep here tonight.”

“Thanks,” I told him.

Connor entered to gather some of his stuff as I walked around and studied the decorations. There was a beautiful necklace of beads on the shelf, laid out with care. It was far too feminine to belong to him. I touched it with my fingertip. It was well worn and smooth from use.

“Please do not touch that,” Connor said from behind me.

I pulled my hand away. “Sorry,” I said. “Is it your girlfriend's?”

Connor stared at me. There was sadness and something like regret on his features. “It belonged to my mother,” he said, casting his eyes aside.

I guessed there was a story there, but not one he was willing to share. “Oh.”

Connor took a breath and looked back at me. “Do you require anything before you rest?”

His polite nature and the proper way he spoke made me wonder even more about his past and how he and Achilles had come to know each other. They were complete opposites and their bond was not one of relation, but felt forced by circumstance.

“No,” I said.

“Then I wish you a good night.”

Connor moved for the door, glanced at me momentarily, then closed it softly behind him as he went out. I looked around the room once more when I was alone. I respected his wish and didn't touch the necklace again, but I let myself finger the other objects casually as I studied them. I wasn't all that sleepy when I finally undressed and lay down on the bed, but the relaxation was welcome. I stared up at the canopy over the bed and wondered what tomorrow would bring. I eventually fell into a restless slumber that was filled with strange dreams of secret societies and clandestine plots. The weirdest part was how much sense they made to me. I understood everything in my visions and knew that the year was 1772 and that a war was about to break out. Unfortunately, all of the revelations faded upon waking and I was once again confused with my location and purpose.

 

 

 


	2. Still December 1772

The gray light of day made time uncertain, but the smell of sausage from the kitchen alerted me to morning. I entered with softly purposeful steps, unsure of what scene I would encounter. Achilles raised his head to me as I came through the dining room and stood in the doorway nervously. Connor glanced over from his place at the wood stove for a second before resuming his cooking.

"Good morning, Faith," the old man greeted. "Did you sleep well?"

I pushed aside the clouded memories of the odd dreams and nodded. Achilles stood up and entered the dinning room. He sat at the head of the table and I took the seat near him, the same as I had the night before.

"I'm sure you have many questions," he said. "And I will answer all that I can after breakfast. But I only ask that you extend me the same courtesy."

I put my elbows on the table and rested my head in my hands. "That sounds fair," I told him.

"Good," he said. "Elbows off the table."

The order elicited an amused glance from the boy serving breakfast. I got by his expression that he had been chastised in the same way on occasion. I hid a grin as I did what I was told. I looked at the plate of bread and sausage that he put in front of me. My stomach rumbled, but I could not bring myself to eat the meat. I picked at the bread, wondering if it would be rude to ask for something else. I noticed Connor was watching me, but ignored his gaze.

"Is something wrong?" he asked at length.

"I don't eat meat," I stated.

He frowned at me. "Why?"

I shrugged. "I just don't like it."

There was quiet where the men looked at me for a moment. "In that case," Achilles said, "you're welcome to any food we have that you find appetizing. We don't have much, but surly you won't starve."

"Thank you."

I got up and went into the kitchen. There was quiet a bit of food in the cold room, but most of it required preparation. I managed to find some butter and apple preserves for my bread and made due with that for breakfast. I ate feeling much better about being free to whatever I chose.

After breakfast, Connor began to clear the table.

"Do you want some help?" I asked.

The offer struck him. I felt certain he'd never received aid in chores before. I didn't mind cleaning. I was used to it and felt it only polite since I was a guest. It seemed a fitting exchange to the hospitality I had been shown. Connor looked tempted to oblige me, but Achilles answered before he had a chance.

"He doesn't need any assistance."

Connor gave the other man a veiled glare and went about his chores alone. Achilles either didn't notice the look he was given or chose to ignore it. He looked at me instead.

"Last night you asked me how I knew the history of the Assassins," he reiterated. "There is a simple answer, but not one that is easily given. You may be well versed with the lore, Faith. But I doubt you understand the needed secrecy that accompanies such discussions. You already know too much, and I worry telling you more will put everyone at risk."

His words confused me, but I nodded nonetheless. His seriousness required my attention and I was willing to give it if it provided me with an explanation to the situation. My reasons were not entirely pure, but I knew the value of silence. My life thus far had contained many events that were never to be spoken of. I didn't see this one as any different.

"I know how to keep a secret," I told him truthfully.

Achilles studied me intently for a moment, then seemed satisfied with whatever he saw. "I don't doubt that," he muttered. "I will tell you the true story of the Order and how I came to learn it firsthand."

Achilles spoke for the next two hours on the true tale of the Brotherhood. He told me more of Altair and the war with the Knights Templar. Then of Ezio and his struggles to liberate Italy from the same faction. He told me how the Assassins had failed in most of their attempts and how they had established a base in the Colonies. Achilles then regaled me with his personal experiences with the Order and how he had once been mentor until the fall of the Colonial Brotherhood by the Templars now seeking control. He stated the names of the order, some of them gave me a jolt of disbelief because I found them familiar. Charles Lee, William Johnston, John Pitcairn. I knew all these men had significant roles in history, but I found it difficult to believe they were enemies. They had all helped to shape America into the nation it was during my time.

"I have a crazy question," I interrupted. Achilles looked at me with bewilderment.

"Only one?" he asked.

"For now," I revised. "What's the date?"

"December 21st, 1772," Achilles told me with a frown.

I was shocked. That could not be right. I felt I was the butt of a joke. A horrible joke that was not entertaining in the least. The month and day didn't sound that off, but the year...From what scattered recollections I had, the year should have been two hundred and forty plus what he stated. Yet, it explained so much. The way of life, the lack of modern conveniences. I rubbed my eyes, unsure how to respond. I looked at him again, noticing my elbows were on the table and hastily moved them.

"I see you have other questions," Achilles said.

"Many," I murmured.

"As do I," he returned. "I've told you my story. I would like to hear yours."

I was unsure how to begin, or even what to say. "There's not much to tell," I said. "My parents abandoned me when I was a kid. I was raised in a series of foster homes. None of them were good, but some were worse than others. My tattoo was given to me when I was ten by a man I stayed with for a few months. He was..." I searched for the correct word to describe him. I didn't even remember his name. That house had been one of my shortest stays. The times the man had chosen to acknowledge my presence there was with an indifference that might as well have been hate. He had forced me to preform all sorts of work, besides the chores I was usually assigned. He had beat me until I learned to defend myself and I felt nothing short of happiness the night he never came home. I wasn't sure why he had given me the tattoo, but he had sedated me to keep me still while he drew it. It had ached for days and I never wanted anyone to see it.

"Crazy," I finished my sentence.

Achilles said nothing when I finished. He appeared deep in thought. I noticed Connor standing silently in the far corner, staring at his hands, but listening intently. Any thoughts he had were not shared and I wondered what his part was in any of this. He noticed me watching him and met my eyes.

"What about you?" I asked him.

Connor was quiet for a moment. "My story is only now beginning," he said.

I frowned, realizing that his answer only prompted more questions. I wondered if he was almost as new to this as I was.

"Connor is my apprentice," Achilles told me. "Even with all he has learned, there is still much to be taught. But he has proven a capable student so far."

That statement seemed to please the boy and his pride was evident in his stance and expression.

"I suppose your next decision is the most difficult one, Faith," Achilles said. "You must now decide what you are going to do."

"That might be easier if I knew all my options," I mused.

Achilles chuckled softly. "Indeed. I suppose – in light of recent developments – that you can stay here until you find your path. But you will be expected to work for your room and board. There are many chores that need to be done and Connor does have better uses for his time. Your treatment will be fair and I can pay you a little for your trouble."

"Before I agree, can I ask what would be expected of me and where I would stay? I'm assuming Connor doesn't want to share his room with me."

The boy in question looked away quickly and I noticed a faint tint on his cheeks. I hadn't considered that my words could be taken out of context and certainly hadn't meant them to mean anything like that. Yet the discomfort they cause him made me sniffle a laugh.

Achilles ignored the reactions. "We have couches that will do for now. You can take your pick of them. As for what's expected..." he sighed. "I suppose you could consider it women's work. The house needs cleaning, the grounds tending, but – above all else – we could use a cook."

The glance he gave Connor was accepted with a smile by the boy.

"Doesn't sound any different than most of the other places I've stayed," I said. I guessed it was not a bad deal. I currently had no desire to wander more. I could remain here as long as I was treated respectfully. "I accept."

Achilles smiled at me. "Good. Familiarize yourself with the house, do what you feel needs to be done. I'd like dinner to be served at sunset." He stood up and looked at the young man. "It's best if we get on with your training. I'll meet you in the basement."

Connor nodded and left the room. Achilles looked back at me. "Do you have any other questions?"

I started to shake my head, then thought of one. "Where's the bathroom?"

"The toilet is out back," Achilles answered. "But use the front door. The back is jammed and Connor hasn't fixed it yet."


	3. The Aquila  - 1772

The biggest adjustment for me was the lack of indoor plumbing. It was time consuming and an inconvenience to have to pump water and haul it inside a bucket at a time when I needed it. What made it worse was the fact that the pump was out back and the closest door was out of order. I spent most of the first day doing as Achilles suggested and familiarizing myself with the manor. Most of the space upstairs was unused. I decided which room I wanted for mine and moved out the extra furniture to the room across the hall. I then sat on each of the couches and tested them for comfort. I liked the one in the library the best. But moving it to the other room was impracticable. I decided to take one from the hallway. It was heavy and difficult to move on my own, but I managed.

After I sat my room up, I began to dust the surfaces in the house. I stayed out of the bedrooms, but found the rest of the house enough of a chore. Once I was done with all that, I wondered around the kitchen. I looked at everything and played out possible meal scenarios until I made a decision. It wasn't time to start cooking yet, so I went outside and walked around the grounds for a bit. It was cold, but the snow had finally stopped falling. I realized that the land was really quite beautiful. I hadn't known that the house was so close to the water. As I walked around the back yard, I noticed the cliff overlooking the sea. It was a pretty view. I stared out at it for a long time, wondering who's ship sat on the water at the small dock and who lived in the shacks along the shoreline. I was getting ready to go back to the house when I heard a voice behind me.

" _Aquila_."

I turned to look at Connor. He was dressed in different clothes than he had been. He now wore a long white coat with blue trim and a hood that was not pulled up. He had on more modern pants and shirt, but his deerskin leg coverings and shoes were the same. He was also wearing a red sash and belt that I found the emblem of familiar. It was the same as the tattoo I had. As was the symbol adoring the bracer on his left wrist. He had a weapons belt with duel pistols and a tomahawk attached.

"The ship," he explained. "Her name is _Aquila_."

"Oh," I said. I looked at the ship. "That's Latin for eagle, right?"

Connor nodded, not taking his eyes from the gulf. "She was constructed for use by the Brotherhood to ward off the Templar threat upon the Atlantic. The _Aquila_ served as their flagship for many years, but fell out of service after being damaged during a mission. She remained here until I repaired her and began my captaincy. She still requires some attention to reach her full potential, but I intend to see her at her best soon."

I watched him. We hadn't really talked much but I found myself enjoying his company. He had a pleasant voice and he spoke of the ship as if it was a real person worthy of his respect.

"So, it's your ship?" I asked.

He looked at me with a slightly offended expression. " _She_ is mine," he stated. "A ship is a she."

"Okay," I related with a grin. " _She_ then. _She_ is yours."

He watched me for a moment, the shadow of a smile on his face. I couldn't be certain, but I guessed his age to be close to my own. It seemed young to be owner of a ship and apprentice to an Assassin. I wondered again about his past, but was loath to ask. I doubted his story was one that could be summed up simply. I guessed I would learn more about him in time – if he wanted me to.

"Do you sail a lot?" I asked.

"When I have time," he stated.

There was a note of dissatisfaction in his voice. Sailing was obviously something he enjoyed greatly. It was a feeling I couldn't relate to. I'd never even been on a boat before. I had never been anywhere that required that mode of transportation. Being raised on the busy streets of New York limited my travel options to cabs or buses. I didn't even have a drivers license. I saw no point in learning to drive if it was something I wouldn't have to do.

"Can I ask you something?" I said after a moment.

Connor nodded at me. "Yes."

"How old are you?"

I hadn't intended to ask, but it was bothering me. He spoke and acted much older than he appeared. The gave off the vibe of being wise beyond his years. He wasn't like any of the other guys I had met before. I honestly wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

He looked at me for a few seconds. "I am sixteen," he answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering," I said. "I thought you were older than me."

Connor frowned as though he thought the same thing. "But I am not?" he asked.

"No," I told him. "I'm eighteen."

We stood in a silence watching the horizon for a time. The sun was beginning to get low, the air was growing cooler. I pushed my hands into my pockets and decided to go inside.

"I need to start cooking," I told Connor. "Are you going back in?"

He shook his head. "I need to chop wood."

"Okay," I said. "Well, have fun then."

He gave me skeptical look and frowned. "In what way would work be fun?"

I just shrugged at him. He apparently wasn't that familiar with sarcasm or humor. I wondered if it was his upbringing or just his personality. I hoped everyone in this time wasn't like that.

"It was just an expression," I said.

I left before he could respond. Yet he still had the confused countenance on his face when I looked back before rounding the corner. I gave a thought as to what a strange boy he was as I went into the kitchen and began to fix supper.

Cooking with fire was also an adjustment for me. I hadn't been that great at it to begin with, but I felt like I was learning all over again. In all honesty, the vegetable soup I made the first night was actually pretty good. It may have just been because I was so hungry. However, Connor and Achilles seemed to enjoy it as well. The former had thirds while the latter stopped at only two bowls. I still wonder if the compliments they gave me came more from having someone to serve them than the actual quality of the food. It was a kind gesture either way. I was flattered and went to bed in a good mood.

I don't really remember what I dreamed that night. It was foggy and distant, even before waking. All I can recall is a voice and a name. My name. I can't identify the sound as being either feminine or masculine, but I remember my name being said and waking in a cold panic while it was still dark. I lay there for a while, waiting for my heart to slow, then fell back into a dreamless sleep. The next time I awoke, it was with something other than dreams on my mind.


	4. Traditions and Gifts - 1772

I walked to the doorway of Achilles' room. He was sitting at his desk, a feather pen in hand and parchment in front of him. I paused and gently tapped my knuckles against the wood frame. The elderly man looked up at me.

"What is it, Faith?"

I took a couple tentative steps forward and stood by the desk with my hands in my back pockets. I watched him for a moment. I noticed a crease in his brow at my silence.

"I wanted to ask you something," I said.

Achilles put his pen down and gave me his attention. "Do you require permission or were you only stating your intentions?"

I let out a nervous laugh. "I guess I'm just stalling. I don't want to overstep my bounds or offend you in any way. But...in three days it'll be Christmas."

Achilles looked distant for a moment, perhaps calculating the date. "So it will," he said.

"Do you plan to do anything special that day?" I asked.

Achilles gave me a wry grin. "I haven't had a reason to celebrate the holidays in many years."

"Oh," I said. I hadn't really expected a different response, but I was still crestfallen. I'm not sure why.

Achilles watched me for a moment. "Is Christmas important to you?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. Most of the people I've stayed with over the years have taken it to extremes one way or the other. It was either not important at all and we did nothing or I was forced to participate religious customs I didn't really believe. I guess I just want something in between."

Achilles sighed and smiled at me. "I understand. You are welcome to celebrate in whatever way you choose. I've never been one for merrymaking, but I suppose I can muster up some joy for your sake." He frowned for a second. "Connor, on the other hand...his people don't celebrate Christmas, so I'm not sure how he would react."

I smiled. "I think I can get him to go along with it."

The old man raised his brow at me. "Really? And how do you plan to do that?"

I shrugged. "I'll fix a big meal. Surly he'll like that."

Achilles laughed. "I'm sure he will."

I left the room and decided to start on my preparation for the best day of the year. I approached Connor just as he was taking a break from whatever it was he'd been doing in the basement. He was standing in the kitchen, drinking water from the ladle. He was sweaty and breathing rapidly. He looked at me when I called his name in a loud whisper. His brow arched.

"Can we talk for a minute?" I asked him.

He looked at me questioningly and nodded. "Of course. Is something wrong?"

I shook my head and started to tell him what I had planned. Then I remembered that Achilles was in the room across the hall and beckoned for him to follow me upstairs to the library. He did, but looked confused.

"Why such secrecy?" he asked.

"I don't want Achilles to hear," I told him.

Connor nodded. "Then perhaps we should speak outside."

I stared at him. "It's snowing," I said. "I doubt he can hear us from here."

He shrugged, unconvinced but with resignation. "What is it you want to discuss, Faith?"

"I'm making plans for Christmas and I need your help," I told him.

"Christmas?" he repeated. "The religious holiday that the Colonists celebrate?"

The way he spoke of it was weird. I was accustomed to everyone knowing what Christmas was, even if they didn't acknowledge it. It was socially acceptable to say Happy Holidays in an attempt to include all beliefs, but people still knew about Christmas. To Connor, though, it was a novel idea. I doubted he knew anything about it at all. I reminded myself that he was a pure native, not even sure what that meant.

"Yeah," I told him.

"I am not sure of how much I can be," he said. "I do not understand such ways."

"That's okay," I said. "You don't have to understand it. I just want you to help get the decorations."

Connor nodded. "I suppose I can do that. What do you need?"

"The first thing we need to get is a tree."

He stared at me. "A tree?"

"A small tree," I told him. "An evergreen or pine tree. I guess a four foot one will be okay. Can you help me cut one down and set it up in the study?"

Connor thought for a moment. "What is the significance of the tree?"

I shrugged. I know there was a long history of why trees were used during the holiday season, but I didn't want to explain it right now. "It's just a tradition," I said. "Will you help me get one?"

He nodded. "I know a place to find one."

"Great. Now, do you know where to find mistletoe?"

"What is mistletoe?"

I sighed. "It's a plant that usually grows on the bark of trees. It sometimes has white or green buds on it. It's like a vine."

Connor watched me. "That does not help much," he said.

I didn't know how to explain it any other way. I wished I had a picture to show him, but I wasn't sure it would help. I wasn't even sure if mistletoe grew wild around this area.

"Never mind," I said. "The tree will be fine for now."

"Okay," he said.

"There's one more thing I need," I said. "Gift giving is also a Christmas tradition. And I wanna get a gift for Achilles. Sort of as a thank you for all he's done for me."

Connor looked at me for a second. "That would be nice. What would you like to get him?"

"I don't know. That's why I need your help."

"That is something I cannot help you with."

"Why?" I asked.

"This gift is from you, Faith. It would have more value if you decided on it alone."

"But you've known him longer," I stated. "I don't know what he likes or wants or needs. Besides, I don't have any way of buying him anything."

There was moments thoughtful silence from Connor then he looked at me. "Perhaps you should make him a gift instead."

It was a good idea. A homemade gift would be more practical and sentimental. The only problem with that idea was I had only two days and still no idea what to give the old man. I looked at Connor.

"I don't know what to make," I said. "What does Achilles like?"

Connor's silence seemed to last forever. At the end of it, he shrugged. "I do not know."

The amount of truth in his words made me wonder more about their relationship. Did it consist of anything other than the Brotherhood?

"How long have you know him?" I asked.

"Three years," he said. "Yet, I know very little of him as a person. He is my teacher. He has related only some of his past to me. As much as he has to you. In most ways, you know him as well as I do." He noticed my frown. "You do not have to give him a gift, Faith. The work you do here is enough."

I shook my head. "He deserves something."

"I will do what I can to help," Connor said. "But the gift should come from your heart."

I began to reevaluate my plans. Maybe getting a gift wasn't such a great idea. Maybe the food I prepared would be enough for Achilles.

"Where can we get the tree?" I asked.

"Get your coat and I will take you there," Connor said.

Connor led me down a snow-covered path south of the house. The land was mostly overgrown and unused. I hadn't known how extensive the forest was until I could no longer see the house. The snow was about two feet deep and it was a work out just to move in it. Connor didn't seem to have as limited mobility as I did. But he was quite a bit bigger than I was. I guessed him at least six feet tall already and probably about two hundred pounds. It was all muscle, though. He was very bulky. He'd wait for me to catch up every so often, which I thought was nice of him.

"It is not far now," he told me.

By the time we got to where we were going, I was frozen. The sun was shinning through the clouds, but it provided little warmth. My fingers were like ice, even with my hands in my pockets. I wished I had gloves. My boots were good for this travel though. Of that I was thankful. My feet were warm, but my pants were wet up to my knees.

"Hey," I said to Connor. "That one looks good."

I spotted a nice looking small fir tree nearby and pointed to it.

"It is young," Connor said.

"Is that bad?" I asked.

Connor shrugged. "Is it what you want?"

I nodded. As far as a tree goes, it was perfect. But what I really wanted was to get back to the house and thaw out. My face was numb from the cold. I followed Connor over to the tree and he readied the axe he had brought with him.

"You want me to do that?" I asked.

Connor shook his head. "I will cut it down. You can help me drag it back to the house."

I nodded and stood back, hugging myself as Connor chopped the narrow tree trunk quickly and easily. Within moments it fell to the ground in a cloud of damp white. Connor looked at me. I wasn't looking forward to removing my hands from my pockets, but I did.

"I can carry it myself," he said.

I shook my head and grabbed one of the lower branches on one side as he did the same on the opposite side. It wasn't that difficult to drag, but attempting to do it while navigating the mounds of snow was precarious. I almost fell a couple times and cursed. Connor glanced at me when he heard the profanity, but said nothing. I wondered if he'd ever heard bad words before. Surly he had. I wasn't sure how much women swore in this time period, but I was certain the crew of his ship did. That made me wonder what else he'd heard from the sailors of the Aquila.

Tugging the tree got easier as we neared a cleared path. Connor led the way as I was unsure of where exactly we were. We'd cut through the forest on our way to get the tree. The way we were taking back was different. As we moved along, I heard a voice call out to Connor. He stopped and turned toward the speaker. It was an older, heavy set man with a full beard. Connor put the tree down as he came over to us.

"Lance," he greet. "How are you?"

"As well as can be expected in such poor weather," the man said. He looked at me. "Who's your friend, Connor?"

"This is Faith," Connor told him. The other man reached out a hand to me. "She is working for Achilles for the time."

"How do you do?" the man asked as I shook his hand quickly before putting them in my pockets. "I'm Lance. I live and work close by."

"Oh," I said. "What kind of work do you do?"

"Wood work," Lance told me. "It's not that exciting, but it makes a living."

"Really?" I said. "Do you only make furniture? Or can you make other things?"

"Mostly furniture," Lance said. "But I have experience with all forms of wood craft. I've been commissioned to create all sort of things, from dolls to sheds."

An idea struck me as he was speaking. I remembered that Achilles' cane was quite worn and splintered in spots. He didn't use it much, but I thought a new one might benefit him.

"Do you make canes?" I asked Lance.

"Canes?" he repeated. "I've made a few."

"Would it be possible for you to make an elegant, but simple cane in two days?"

Connor gazed at me. I could tell by his expression that he knew what I had in mind. He almost grinned at me.

"I'm sure I could whip up something decent in that time frame," Lance told me. "It wouldn't happen to be a gift would it?"

I nodded. "How much would you charge for such an order?"

Lance thought for a moment. "For you? Hmm...five shillings."

"That seems a low price," Connor stated. I took his word for it. I didn't understand shillings and pounds. "I do not want you to be inconvenienced."

Lance laughed. It was a hearty, sincere sound. "It's no inconvenience at all. If not for you, I'd still be hanging by my ankles off the cliff. You and Achilles have helped me in many ways, and I'm obliged to return the favor."

"That is very kind of you," Connor said. "You have our thanks."

"Don't mention it." Lance looked at me. "It'll be ready for pick up Christmas eve."

"Thank you," I told him.

He left and I smiled at the fortune. I then looked at Connor. He gave me a smile as he lifted the tree. "That was a good idea for a gift," he said.

"Yeah," I stated. "Now I just gotta figure out how to pay for it."

"Do not worry," Connor returned. "Lance may have stated a price, but I doubt very much that he will take your money."

We got the tree back home and I stood in front of the fire for a hour before doing anything else. I was cold, but happy. Very happy.


	5. Mistletoe and Secrets - 1772

Achilles was true to his word and mustered up some Yuletide joy in the days leading up to Christmas. He even helped me rummage through the spare room where he had a few decorations stored. That part gave him some sadness. He told me about his wife and son and how they had died of fever in 1755. Most of their possessions were packed away in the room. I tried not to go through much, wanting to respect his privacy. Achilles went through the majority of the boxes, often pulling out an old dress or toy and staring at them for a few moments before returning them and moving on.

"I'm sorry," I told him. "I didn't want you to have to go through all this stuff."

He chuckled. "It's alright, Faith. Some of the memories are painful, but most of them are pleasant." He pushed a box toward me after inspecting it's contents. "I'm sure Abigail wouldn't want all of this to go to waste."

I looked in the box and noticed it was full of garland, red bows and wreaths. I pulled out a dried vine tied with a ribbon and held it up.

"Mistletoe," I mused.

Achilles smiled. "Abigail used to hang that everywhere during the holiday season."

"That's sweet," I said, smiling. "She sounds like an amazing woman."

"She was," he admitted with a sad, proud tone in his voice.

Achilles composed himself and stood up. "That reminds me," he said. "I have something for you. When you've finished in here, see me in the study."

I nodded and began to tidy up the boxes. I wondered what Achilles would give me. I sort of hoped it was pay for my works so far. I know I hadn't done much, but I intended to give Lance the money I owe him whether he wanted it or not. That would be easier to do if I actually had money. I'd have to have Connor help me count it, but at least I wouldn't feel like I owed anyone other than the men I shared a house with.

I carried the box to the downstairs hallway and met Achilles in the study. He handed me a book, thin and leather bound. I studied it and flipped through the pages. It was a collection of recipes, all hand written.

"It belonged to my wife," he said. "Feel free to play loose with the recipes. They never turned out quite right when Abigail made them. Cooking was never her forte. You seem to have a talent for it, though."

I felt a wave of emotion at the compliment. I hugged him and he let out an embarrassed, "Oh."

"Thank you, Achilles."

"You're welcome," he said , easing out of my embrace. "Now, finish with what you were doing and clean up this mess."

I looked around the study. I'd had the idea of organizing the books and papers Achilles had stored while moving the furniture to make room for the tree. So far I had made more of a mess than I had cleaned up. The surfaces were cluttered and there were stacks of documents piled on the floor.

I smiled at him and nodded. I watched him leave the room, limping on his bad leg.

Connor came back from hunting and looked about the house with bewildered confusion. I had finished with all the decorating. The tree was trimmed and garland hung along the banister. Wreaths were on both of the doors, inside and out. Bows hung in all the windows I could reach. Mistletoe was in all the doorways, as well as in the middle of the hall at the front door. I might have went a little overboard, but I was only using what Abigail had left behind. I felt it right to put it all up in her absence.

I went to the hallway to greet him as he came through the front door. "What do you think?" I asked. "It's pretty festive, huh?"

Connor looked at me with a discernible expression. It hadn't been what I was expecting. "It is...nice," he said.

I sighed. I had hoped he would take a bit more of an interest when he noticed the amount of work I'd put into making the place look Christmasy. "I guess it doesn't really mean much to you, does it?"

He shook his head apologetically. "But I doubt any of my people's rituals would mean much to you."

"Probably not," I agreed.

I happened glance up and noticed that Connor was standing directly beneath the mistletoe. Since he wasn't familiar with the custom, I felt he deserved some insight. "You might not want to stand there."

Connor frowned at me. I gestured to the vine above his head. He looked up. "What is that?"

"Mistletoe," I told him. "It's a holiday tradition that anyone who stands under it is required to receive a kiss."

Connor looked at me, as though trying to determine the truth of the custom. "I do not understand," he said. "What is the purpose of such a tradition?"

I laughed and shook my head at his ignorance. I wasn't really clear on the origin of the practice myself. I could have just made something up to appease him, but I didn't see the point. "It doesn't matter," I told him. "Just take at least one step in any direction so I don't have to kiss you."

His cheeks became red and he hastily stepped back, moving from beneath the mistletoe. "Sorry," he muttered, looking at the ground.

"That's the only warning I'm giving you," I said. "Be careful where you stand from now on."

Connor met my eyes and I noted a flicker of defiance in his. It made me wonder if he would test me just to see if I was bluffing. I remembered how Achilles complained about his rebelliousness sometimes, but I'd never witnessed it before. Other than the few silent sneers he cast at his mentor, Connor followed orders like a well trained dog. Until that moment, I had never considered that he might be one to push boundaries for no other reason than to see if they would move. That look he gave me, thought. It made doubt everything I thought I knew about him.

"Of course," he said.

Connor walked by me, eyeing me with that same challenging stare. He pulled the candlestick that revealed the entrance to the basement and went downstairs, shutting the door behind him.

I went back to the kitchen and to finish supper, wondering about what secrets he had hidden.


	6. Horses and Lies - 1772

Even though Connor didn't celebrate Christmas, I felt bad about not getting him a present. But I had no clue what to give him. I couldn't think of a single thing he would like. I really knew nothing about him. I tried asking Achilles for advise. He was no help at all. He wasn't sure why I felt obliged to give the native boy anything at all. I told him I just thought it would be nice. I didn't want to tell him I was afraid Connor would feel left out without a present under the tree.

Later, while Connor was busy doing something elsewhere, I sneaked into his room and looked around for some sort of gift idea. There was nothing in there that I hadn't seen before. And I was still clueless. The worst part was I only had one day left. I walked around the room, trying to understand the teenager I shared a house with. He was simple, but so complex. I doubted he would like anything frivolous. He wasn't that type of person. I knew he liked to hunt and that he used a bow. But I didn't know how to come by arrows for it. He had a blade, but he already had a whetstone.

I paused in my pacing at the shelf that displayed his mom's necklace and looked at it. It was so pretty. I wondered what she had been like. And what had happened to her. Would she approve of the path her son had chosen? Would she have raised him this way? Or had she urged him to this life? I had so many questions. About Connor and his mother. And also his father. He'd never mentioned his father before. I wondered if he had been an Assassin.

"What are you doing?"

I jumped and swung around to face Connor. He was standing in the doorway watching me. The cool stare he favored me with was enough to make me blush horribly. I fidgeted and thought for something to say. I realized I had no explanation for my presence in his bedroom. Nor could I think of a good one right off hand. His expectant gaze made me even more nervous.

"I asked you-"

"I wasn't touching it!" I stated defiantly.

"-what you were doing," Connor finished, ignoring my outburst.

"I-I was...I was just..." I took a second to compose myself before continuing as Connor walked into the room and stood in front of me.

"I was only looking," I stated meekly.

"For what?" Connor asked. His eyes moved passed me to the necklace on the table. I hadn't touched it. I'm not sure if he could tell, but when his eyes met mine once more, they were softer.

"Nothing," I said.

Connor nodded slightly and backed up. I guessed that was my cue to leave. I had invaded his privacy enough for one day, but I felt a desire to remain.

"What happened to your mom?" I asked.

He was quiet for so long that I thought he wouldn't answer. Then he sighed and began to speak. "She died when I was a child," he said. "Our village was attacked by the Templars and nearly destroyed. My mother..." He paused for a second. "She could not be saved."

I wasn't sure what to say to that. I muttered the commonly, but not really adequate, word used in such situations. "Sorry."

Connor only looked at me. This was the most meaningful conversation we'd ever had, but it taught me nothing about him. There was still so much I didn't know. I wondered if I'd ever learn it all or if our relationship would always be one of mutual circumstances.

"You said your parents left you?" he asked hesitantly.

I nodded. "I never knew my dad, but my mom just didn't want me. I don't really remember anything about her. I think I was two when I was placed in the first group home. They didn't keep me long either. No one ever has."

"I am sure you will find your place in time," Connor said. It might have only been my wishful thinking, but I could have sworn there was a hopeful note in his tone. Hopeful that my place was here. Even though it had only been a few days, that was my hope.

"You should go and see Lance," Connor stated.

I pulled myself together and remembered that I had other errands. "Yeah," I agreed.

"Would you like me to take you?"

I wanted to tell him no. I felt uncomfortable enough at present. But I wasn't sure where Lance lived, so I told him that would be nice. I got my jacket and followed him to the front door. Achilles was sitting in the study. He looked up as we came down the steps.

"Where are you two going?" he asked.

"I am going to show Faith around the property," Connor stated. "But do not worry, old man. She will return in time to make supper."

The answer appeased the other man and he went back to his reading. I followed Connor outside marveling at how well he had done with the story.

"You're pretty good at lying," I stated as I followed him to the stables.

"It was not a lie," he said. "I am going to show you the land. I only failed to give him our destination."

"Smooth."

He didn't get the statement. He only glanced at me then unlocked the stall where a beautiful two tone horse was munching hay contently. Connor spoke to the horse as he led it out, but I had no clue what he was saying. He was speaking another language.

"Is that your horse?" I asked him.

"She is the one I use most often," he stated.

"What's her name?"

"I call her Akosha:tens."

"That's pretty," I stated.

"It means horse," Connor told me. "Have you ever ridden before?"

"A horse?" I asked. "No. This is the closest I've ever been to one."

Connor gave me a look one would associate with an outcast. I supposed that's what I was. I felt everything here was strange. But to him, it was me who was unusual.

"Then we will ride together," he said.

As he saddled the mare, I petted her head. She seemed to enjoy the attention. She neighed and shook her main, nudging her muzzle against my hand. I giggled and stroked her some more. I had never spent much time around any kind of animal, but I liked them. I always dreamed of having wild and exotic pets. I'd always thought horses were graceful and elegant. I had wanted one since I'd first read Black Stallion as a child.

"Hey there, beautiful," I cooed. "You like having your ears scratched, don't you?"

The animal's response was a whinny. I took it as a positive reply and laughed.

"Are you ready?" Connor asked.

I stopped petting the horse and looked at him. He was watching me with something like embarrassment at my behavior. I gave Akosha:tens one more scratch between the ears and nodded. Connor mounted the horse and instructed me to get on behind him. He took my hand and helped me up. I tried to get as comfortable as I could. I guessed actually being in the saddle would help. But sitting behind it as I was, felt a little hazardous. I felt like I could fall off at any time. And we hadn't even started moving yet.

"Hold on," Connor told me.

"To what?" I asked dumbly.

"To me," he stated, as though the answer were obvious.

I put my arms loosely around his waist. He urged the horse forward and it made me hold on tighter. Connor led the horse along the path. I assumed it was a path. There were no trees growing where we rode, but the snow covered the ground. I looked around as we progressed. The country was beautiful covered in snow. I was raised in the city. I had never seen so much untamed land. It was breath taking. I noticed a fuzzy critter hop away as we rode by.

"A bunny!" I exclaimed.

Connor looked at me over his shoulder. I guess he found my excitement uncalled for. He'd been raised here. He was used to seeing all the wildlife. It was new for me.

"I've never seen a rabbit before," I told him with shame.

"There are many here," he said. "Along with deer, beaver and wolves."

"No lions or tigers or bears?"

I hadn't expected him to get the reference. He didn't. "There are bears south," he said.

"Seriously?"

"Yes," he said.

"Have you ever seen one up close?"

"I have killed a few," he stated.

I stared at the back of his head. It wasn't like him to joke. At least, I didn't think so. So I could only guess he was being honest. If not, he was doing a fine job of attempting to scare me.

"What else have you killed?" I asked.

Connor was thoughtful for a moment. "Many types of animals," he said. "Skins are very valuable. The meat, as well. Though I do not care for feline meat, it fetches a good price from those who enjoy it."

"You mean cat meat?" I asked with a grimace.

"Large cats," he said. "Cougars and bobcats are plentiful in the frontier."

"Do you use a gun to hunt those or only your bow?"

"Either my bow or my blades," he stated. "Roundshot lessens the value of the pelt."

We stopped talking as we reached a bridge. There were a few buildings on the other side of it. On the hill on either side of the road, stood two groups of boys, throwing snowballs at each other. They paused to let us pass and waved. Connor waved back.

"Who's kids?" I asked.

"They belong to the brothers who run the lumberyard and their wives."

"Oh," I said. "I didn't know we had that many neighbors."

Connor went a little farther and turned toward the next house. I guessed it was Lance's. There were tables outside covered by a canopy.

"Dismount," Connor told me. He offered me his hand for support as I ambled off the horse's back. He hopped off nimbly as I stretched. He knocked on the door and Lance answered and invited us inside. He showed me the cane he had made and asked what I thought. I looked at it. I hadn't expected something so ornate. It was beautiful. The handle was whittled into and eagle's head.

"It's perfect," I said. I held it back out to him. "But I don't have the money to buy it."

"Nonsense," Lance said. "You don't owe me anything."

I shook my head. "No, that wouldn't be fair. I can't take something I can't pay for."

"Take it," Lance said, pushing it toward me. "You can pay me later."

"I couldn't do that."

Lance chuckled. "Of course you can, Faith. We do it here all the time."

I was ready to refuse again, but I felt Connor's hand on my shoulder. "Accept it, Faith. Or you will insult Lance."

I resigned myself to taking the cane, but promised Lance I'd pay him as soon as I got the money. Double what he had charged. He waved it off, but I was serious. I always paid my debts.

As we left, Connor looked at me. "I could loan you the money."

I gave him a steady gaze. "No. I don't like owing people."

Connor nodded at me. "Very well. And how do you plan to hide it from Achilles until tomorrow?"

I shrugged, unwilling to say anything. "I have my ways."

Connor grinned at me then got on his horse. He helped me up behind him. As we rode home, I felt even worse about not being able to get a present for him. I had no time to make anything and no idea what to give him. My options were limited. In any other situation, I'd resort to cash. But I didn't even have that to give.

After I hid Achilles' cane and made supper, I moped around the house for a while. The only thing I had in my pockets was an elastic hair band. I doubted Connor would like that. He did wear his hair back, but it was a lame gift at best. I sat on the upstairs couch across from my room and twirled the item around my fingers in despair. I began to wish I had skipped Christmas this year.

Achilles entered, looked at me and sat down beside me. "Are you pouting because you don't have a gift for Connor?" he asked.

I nodded.

"I hope you're not under the illusion that he has one for you."

I shook my head. "I don't care if I get anything."

"Nor do I," he said. "But that didn't keep you and Connor from your schemes, did it?"

I stared at him. "You're not suppose to know," I said. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

"It will be," he assured me. "I don't know what you got me, but I know you've been planning something."

"Connor was right. We should have talked outside."

Achilles laughed. "Your behavior was enough to give you away. Connor may think he's clever, but I know when he's not being truthful with me."

"How'd you get so smart, old man?"

There was a huff of resignation from him and he grinned. "I've always heard that with age comes wisdom. But I'm not sure that's true. It's all in how you read people. And I've learned much about that in my years. Come with me."

He stood up and I followed him. He went downstairs to his bedroom and opened the drawer to the bedside table. He got something out and handed it to me. It was a rope, wound neatly, with a dagger attached to one end.

"It's a Sheng Biao," Achilles said. "A gift from the Chinese Order. I think Connor will find a use for it."

I smiled at him. "It can be from both of us."

He shook his head. "I have given him enough. My time, my wisdom, more of my patience than I have left. The rope dart can be from you. So long as you promise to stop sulking."

"I promise," I said. I gave him a quick hug. He let me.

"Go to bed, Faith. I'm sure tomorrow will be a busy day for you."

I lay down on my couch and tried to sleep. I hadn't been this excited for Christmas morning since I was a child. Even then my anticipation was often accompanied by disappointment. I had a feeling this year would be different. It had already been better than any of the other holidays I'd experienced.

It took me forever to finally get to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanien'keha:  
> Akosha:tens - horse


	7. Endings and Beginnings - 1772

I woke up early, just as the sun was spreading it's light upon the earth. I had long since given up believing in Santa Claus and I knew the true magic of Christmas was only the feelings of contentment and appreciation. But that didn't wane the excitement I felt. It was like I was a kid again. I couldn't wait for the guys to open their presents. I wanted to wake them now and see their reactions as they unwound the ribbon-tied cloth and gazed at their new possessions. I hoped their expressions would be ones of thankful joy, but I was prepared to accept only disinterested amusement.

I lay on the couch for a while, trying to calm my anxiety. When I could no longer be still, I got up and went to the kitchen. I began to quietly start on preparations for the upcoming meal. It would take time to make all I planned to fix. The recipe book had been a lot of help. I had to improvise in some areas to account for what we had and what we lacked, but I was certain my changes would be alright. What excited me the most was the cocoa I had found while digging in the cabinets. That would certainly come in handy. I wasn't confident enough to try my hand at making pie crusts, so I just made pudding and cake for desert.

When that was out of the way, I started making biscuits and gravy for breakfast. As I was finishing, Achilles came into the kitchen, limping as he always did. He sat at the table with a grimace of pain and watched me.

"It certainly smells good in here," he said.

I smiled in thanks as I served him his breakfast. We rarely ate the first meal of the day in the dinning room. It was reserved for supper only. Connor never joined us for breakfast, either. The mornings Achilles made him get up, he would exercise for at least an hour before eating. That mostly meant running around in the woods and then tracking mud and snow through the house that I would later have to clean up. I always waited to mop the floors for that reason.

I sat down by Achilles and we ate in silence. When he was done, I looked at him.

"Are you going to wake Connor?"

He looked at me. I think he caught the expectation in my voice, even though I tried to hide it. He shrugged. "I think I'll let him sleep in today."

"Oh," I sounded.

I cleaned up the mess as Achilles sipped his tea in quiet. I noticed he was watching me intently. I could tell by the way he was looking at me that he had no intention of waking Connor. If for no other reason than to keep me waiting. I wondered if he was trying to teach me the value of patience, or just enjoying my misery. I leaned toward the latter as I noticed the slight grin on his face every so often. I finished putting the dishes away, sat down and sighed loudly at him.

"Oh, child, you are so impatient," Achilles mused with affection. "Go wake him up."

I grinned and stood up. I made my way quickly to Connor's door and knocked. When I got no answer, I knocked again. Louder this time. There was still no response. I opened the door cautiously and called out to him.

Connor was sprawled out on the bed, face down, snoring softly.

"Connor!"

He didn't move. I realized why Achilles was never polite in his attempts to wake the boy. He slept like a rock. I entered the bedroom. Connor's bare shoulders glowed in the dying firelight. His hair was loose and tangled. There wasn't a pillow under his head. It was held at his side by his arm, as though it were his lover. I reached down and shook him, calling his name. He jerked and rolled his face toward me. His eyes were still half closed and his expression vague.

"What?" he groaned.

"It's time to get up," I told him. "It's Christmas morning. You get to open your present."

Connor's brow furrowed as he gazed at me with confusion at my excitment. He released the pillow and propped himself up on his elbows. "What?"

I wasn't in the mood for more playful banter. I just wanted him to get up. "Get your lazy ass outta bed," I told him.

Connor looked at me for a moment as if deciding how he should respond. I noticed again the faint rebellious glint in his eyes. Then he sighed. "Fine." He rolled onto his side, facing me. "Leave."

The gruff tone of his order stunned me for a second. He'd never used such a voice with me before. I'd heard him use something like it with Achilles, but not with me. His usual way of speaking to me was with either polite chatting or irritated explanations.

I stood there for a moment, looking at him. Then I left the room. I went into the study and sat on the floor by the tree. Two gifts wasn't much, but I hoped for better next year. I waited impatiently for the boys to come in. After what felt like an hour, they finally did. Connor sat in the high-backed cushioned chair.

"That's my seat, boy," Achilles told him.

Connor sighed, failing to hide a glare and moved to the other chair. I threw him a goading grin. His eyes narrowed at me. He gave me the same reaction when the old man scolded me. Though, that was rare. Achilles didn't need to reprimand me often. Not as much as he did the young man, anyhow.

"Alright, Faith," Achilles said. "Let's get this over with."

I ignored his exasperation and took him his gift. I knelt in front of him as he unwrapped it. Achilles looked at the cane and hummed quietly. "This will be useful," he said nonchalantly. "Thank you."

I tried not to be discouraged by his lack of excitement and smiled. "I'm glad you like it, old man."

I got the other gift and took it to Connor. "Merry Christmas."

He unwrapped the present and looked at it. "What is it?" he asked.

"A rope dart," I said. "Achilles said you might like it."

Connor studied the item. He unwound the rope and twirled the dart.

"Don't spin that in the house," Achilles told him.

The young man let the momentum dwindle and held the dart in his hand. "Sorry." He looked at me. "Thank you."

I walked over to the doorway. Stretching as much as I could, I got the mistletoe from the top and held it in my hands. I looked at them. "Thanks for taking part in my mundane attempt at festivities. Next time, try to be a bit happier."

Connor looked at the ground and said nothing. I walked over to Achilles, put the vine over his head and kissed him on the cheek. He gazed at me.

"I wish you wouldn't do that."

"I know," I told him with a smile.

I gave him the plant and went back to the kitchen to finish cooking. The meal was really good and we all ate too much. I postponed cleaning and lay on the couch with a book while I let my food digest. I was almost dozing when Connor came in. He walked over to where I was and looked at me.

"Thank you," he said. "For everything you have done. You put a lot of effort into today, and I want you to know that Achilles and I both appreciate it."

I put down the book and sat up. "That means a lot," I said.

Connor fidgeted for a moment then held his closed fist out to me, mumbling. "Merry Christmas."

I held out my hand and he put a leather beaded string in my palm. I looked at it. It was about six inches long with nine white beads, a knot between each of them.

"Did you make this?" I asked him.

Connor nodded. He crouched down in front of me. Taking the bracelet, he tied it around my wrist. "I did not have enough beads to make a necklace," he said. "But I hope you like it."

I looked at the bracelet. The fact that it was crafted for me made all the difference. It was perfect. The best gift I had ever gotten.

"I love it," I told him.

Connor gave me an abashed smile. I hugged him. I felt his hesitation at the action, but he slowly put his arms around me in return.

"Thank you, Connor."

"You are welcome," he murmured.

As I released him, I brushed my lips against his cheek. I felt the heat of his blush. He stood up and left the room, without looking at me.


	8. Wolves and Assistance - 1772

As the new year began, I became increasingly content with my life at Davenport manor. Achilles gave me free reign of the house. I organized everything the way I thought it would be best. Functionality was my main concern, but appearance was also important to me. I always asked Achilles before I made the decision to change a room or move things around, but he usually consented with indifference. He said it didn't matter to him how the house was set up, so long as I stayed clear of his room. However, when I approached him about moving the study upstairs and having a sitting room on the lower floor, he refused.

"Why?" I asked.

Achilles gave me his look of exasperation that I was beginning to realize served as his form of passive aggressiveness. I had no doubt he could become angry when pushed, but he had a long fuse. Connor, on the other hand, lost his temper often and didn't care to show it.

"Why do you want a couch downstairs, Faith?"

"So I won't have to walk all the way upstairs just to take a damned break."

Achilles turned to me in his desk chair. "And I don't want to have to walk all the way upstairs just to look at the damned log book."

I crossed my arms and gazed at him with defiance. Achilles sighed loudly and stood up. He walked toward the kitchen, throwing his words over his shoulder. "Pouting is pointless. I can be just as stubborn as you. And I've had many years more practice at it."

I stomped my foot and gave up. "Fine. Can I at least move it around enough to get a love seat in there?"

Achilles was pouring hot water into a cup with a tea bag. He glanced at me. "I suppose."

I smiled at having won one battle. "Great. I'll get Connor to help me."

Achilles turned to me. "Connor is busy," he said. "If you want to move the furniture, you will have to do it yourself."

Of course there was a catch. There so often was with him. I had done all the work on my own so far. Assistance was never asked for or offered. I was independent and preferred to work alone. But I doubted I could transport a sofa from the upper floor to the lower without help. Achilles was giving me the choice to either attempt it or to give up. I refused to do the latter. But I was clever enough to form another option.

"I'll ask Lance to help me."

Achilles frowned as I grinned. I waited for him to argue. He didn't. He only set down his cup and went back to his bedroom. "Don't be late with supper."

"I never am," I reminded him.

"Which is the only reason I keep you in my employ," Achilles muttered.

I knew it wasn't true. Achilles could say what he liked, but he enjoyed having me around. Even Connor had noticed his more pleasant attitude and commented on it to me.

I put on my coat and went to the stable. I hadn't ridden a horse by myself yet. But it couldn't be that difficult. I unhitched Connor's mare, as I was familiar with her, and secured the saddle on her back. She was content to let me as I gave her frequent attention. I then mounted and held the reigns. I pushed my feet deeper into the stirrups.

"Please don't throw me," I begged in her ear. "Oco...Ahco-sah-dus. Is that right? I think that's what Connor called you." The animal gave me no response. She flicked her head indifferently. "I'll just call you Horse. It's the same word, just a different language."

She stamped her foot and I made a skeeting noise to get her moving. I was timid at first, but after a while I became more relaxed. I enjoyed riding. I kept her at a steady trot, and she was gentle and compliant. There weren't many paths through the woods, so I stayed on the one that was widest. It felt like the right way. But after a while, I began to wonder. I didn't think it took that long to reach the bridge. I halted Horse and looked around. Everything looked the same in all directions. I decided to keep going forward. I flicked the reigns and she let out a loud nicker. I thought I'd done something wrong. Horse began to back up and act startled. That's when I hear the howls from nearby. They sounded like dogs growling, only more ferocious.

"Shit," I cursed.

Horse began to buck. I leaned forward and stroked her mane in an attempt to calm her.

"It's okay," I spoke soothingly. "They're not close." At least, I hoped not. "Let's just keep going."

I urged her forward. She didn't want to go, but I insisted. Finally, Horse began to move at a hectic pace. She jerked her head in protest, but did as I wanted. There was another growl and she stopped abruptly and refused to move anymore.

"It's alright, girl. It's okay."

She bucked fervently.

"Okay," I said. "Let's just go home."

I tried to get her to turn around and go back the other way, but she wouldn't do anything. She was fidgeting so much that I was afraid she would throw me off, so I dismounted and attempted to lead her. She moved a few steps. Then there was a loud, closer howl. Horse reared up and I let go of the reigns. She ran off in the direction toward home. I cursed loudly. I had no choice but to walk. I wondered if I should go home or on to Lance's. Before I could make a decision, I heard low growls and movement to my left. I looked toward them. The snow and dense forest made the wolves impossible to see. I decided to just go back home and moved a few steps that way. The next growls stilled me. They were really close. I wondered what it would be like to be attacked by wolves. Would it be painful?

I didn't get to find out. I heard a canine whine of pain, then another. There was a loud startled bark and more movement. A moment later, Connor emerged form the woods. He looked at me with concern as he walked over to where I was standing.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Connor gazed at me with confusion. "Did you not see the wolves?"

I shook my head. I was surprised by the lack of fear I felt. I'm not sure why I was so calm. "I heard them."

Connor walked to the edge of the trees, knelt and moved some thick brush aside enough to reveal a wolf with an arrow in it's side. He watched me as he walked back to where I stood. "You could have been hurt."

"Oh," I muttered. "Well, thanks for protecting me, then"

Connor said nothing for a moment. He gazed at me as if expecting me to go into shock at any moment. "I told you that the wilderness was dangerous. You should not be out alone or unarmed."

I didn't hear concern in his voice, only warning. I really didn't feel that my life had been in that much peril, so his lecture struck me as unsolicited advice. It irritated me that he felt he had a right to scold me. I was older than him.

"You're out here," I stated in defense.

"I know how to protect myself," Connor stated. "You do not. Come on. I will take you back home."

I straitened my posture and stared at him. "No. I'm going to Lance's."

Connor sighed loudly. "That is a far walk, Faith."

I shrugged. "So?"

He looked down at me. There was a icy glint in his gaze. "Fine. Then I will take you to Lance's house."

"No, you won't," I told him. That he felt obligated to dictate what I could do angered me. "I'm going alone."

Connor took a step closer to me. "I did not ask your permission. I will accompany you, no matter the direction you choose. Make your decision, so that I can go find my horse."

I crossed my arms and watched him. It was almost funny how he thought he was my boss. I tried to hold back a laugh, but it escaped my pursed lips despite my resistance. Connor narrowed his eyes at me.

"What about this do you find amusing?"

His words were harsh, yet another attempt to relay his seriousness. But it's intended purpose failed and I grinned at him.

"You don't scare me," I said.

Connor's eyes flickered momentarily and his expression softened. "I was not trying to scare you."

We watched each other with similar expressions until I turned and began to walk back toward the house. Connor kept pace next to me. He said nothing, but I could tell by his strut that he was irritated.

When the manor was in sight, I abandoned the path and trekked through the uncleared hills at the south. I glanced toward the stables and notice Horse grazing in the snow near a hay pile.

"She was smart enough to come back home," I told Connor, getting only a mild stare in return.

I went over and began to pet the mare. She had calmed down and liked the attention. I removed her harness and saddle, laying them on the ground, as I talked to her in a sweet voice.

"I'm sorry you got scared, sweetie. The big bad wolves are gone now, and you don't have to worry about anything. Let's get you back in your stall and I'll give you some fresh hay and brush you. How does that sound? Would you like that?"

She nickered and waved her mane. Connor gazed at me with arched brow as I put Horse back in her cell and combed her as I promised. As I did, he put up the saddle and gave her some hay.

"Ioianere', Akohsa:tens," he said.

I smiled. "I did say it right, didn't I, sweetie?"

I was talking to the horse, but Connor was the one who looked at me. "What?"

"Akohsa:tens," I told him. "I remembered how to say it."

He stared at me for a minute, the beginnings of a smile on his lips. He said something else.

"What does that mean?"

"Not bad," he told me.

We went in the house and Achilles looked at me. "Back so soon? Did you change your mind?"

"No," I said. "But now that Connor's not busy, I thought he could help me."

"Help you with what?" Connor asked.

"It's time for training, boy," Achilles said. "Go to the basement."

Connor moved his eyes between his mentor and me a few times then nodded. As he left the room, I glared at Achilles.

"You're mean," I stated.

The old man smiled at me. "I was wondering when you would think that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanien'keha:  
> Ioianere' - good  
> Akohsa:tens - horse


	9. Shopping and Cats - 1773

By the second week of January, I was eager for warm weather. The constant attention demanded by the hearths to keep the house a decent temperature was tiring. I was also longing for a good bath. There were no tubs here. The only way I had to wash was with a bucket of water I heated over the fire. It wasn't thorough enough for me. I wanted to submerge myself. The only way to do that was in the streams nearby. But it would be months before they were comfortable enough to preform such a feat. I made plans to rig something up in the spare space off of my bedroom, but that would take time to set up and a lot of effort to fill. It would have to wait until spring. As would repairing the back door. I'd looked at it and thought I had the problem identified. The hinges were bent, but to fix them meant removing the door from the frame. Something I wasn't going to do in the bitter cold of winter.

I found many things around the house to keep me busy. I washed windows, swept all the rugs, cleaned the floors and wiped down all the surfaces once a week. I'd gotten brave enough to start cleaning the men's rooms as well. I made the beds, tidied up and washed clothes daily.

As for my own attire, Achilles had given me a couple shirts, but the only pants I had were my own jeans. I preferred them because of the way they fit me just right. But they were becoming worn and stained. I was also dismayed by the lack of clean underwear. I had to go commando sometimes, which I hated. My bra was still in decent shape and for that I was very thankful.

The first bit of money Achilles gave me went to Lance for the cane. I had to argue with him for ten minutes and finally pretend to start crying before he took his pay, but I felt better once he did. The rest of the money I saved. I really didn't know how much it was or what I could buy with it. So I asked Connor for his advice after supper one night. He was sitting in the library pouring over books as he did every evening. I carried the small drawstring bag with my coins in there to him and sat it on the desk in front of him, atop the document he was interested in. He glanced up at me with that annoyed half glare of his.

"How much is that?" I asked him.

After eyeing me for a few seconds, he opened the purse and counted the coins. When he was done, he tied the string and handed the pouch to me.

"Sixteen pounds," he stated and went back to viewing the papers.

I watched him. It shamed me that I had no idea what he was saying. I did not understand the currency used here. I knew it was British, but not the value of it's total. It roughly translated to about twenty American dollars, but I had no clue how much things costed these days. Much less than what I was used to, I was sure. But items were different, too. I doubted I'd be able to find the clothes I wanted, but I definitely needed some new ones.

"What can I buy with it?" I asked.

Connor looked back at me, his brow wrinkled in confusion. "That depends on what you are wanting to buy," he said.

I knelt down at the desk next to him. "Clothes," I said.

"Then you have plenty."

I nodded. "Will you take me shopping?"

Connor frowned at me. "The closest store is a two day ride, Faith. Why do you not use the skins we have to make your clothes?"

That was the logical choice and what anyone in my position would have done. But I did not come from a world that taught tailoring for necessity. The way I had grown up, everything you wanted had to be bought. Self sufficiency was a dying art. I didn't know how to live here.

"I don't know how," I told him quietly.

Connor looked at me. I don't understand how it had taken him this long to realize that I was different. He was often taken aback by the way I spoke and acted, as thought it wasn't normal. But I guess he'd always held the belief that, deep down, I was like him. I wasn't.

"Okay," he said. "But it is a long trip. We will have to spend at least one night in the cold. There are no refuges along the way."

I nodded at him. The thought of camping in the wilderness didn't bother me. But I didn't really know what I was agreeing to yet.

It was early the next morning when we left. The bitter cold of the late January air made me wish I had a warmer jacket. Achilles had given me a pair of gloves to use, so at least my hands would not freeze. But my face was exposed, and the hood of my jacket did little ward off the chill.

Though I liked Akohsa:tens, she was Connor's horse. So I had to choose one of the other three to ride. I picked the white stallion. He was gentle and friendly. A bit playful, too. It took me bit to get used to the precarious way he liked to trot. But, once I did, I loved him. I decided he would be my horse and named him Valcor.

My breath caught as we passed the boundary dividing Achilles' property and the undomesticated frontier. I found myself atop a hill. The valley below was expansive and covered in a blanket of snow. There were mountains and bare trees all around me. It was a sight I'd never beheld before. A wondrous sight. I paused, tugging Valcor's reigns, so that I could take it all in.

"Oh, my God," I breathed.

"What is it?" Connor asked.

I looked at him. I noticed he'd stopped as well and was glancing over his shoulder at me as he sat astride Akohsa:tens. He had a furrow in his brow, as if irritated by my amazement. I supposed it was childish. He'd grown up to views like this. To him, it was nothing special.

"I-I've just never seen anything so beautiful," I said. "It's like a Thomas Kinkade painting."

From his expression I knew he didn't know who I was talking about, but thought it wasn't important. He understood that I like the scenery.

"Wait until you see it in the spring," he stated softly.

I smiled. I couldn't imagine what it would look like in bloom and green. I didn't think it could get any more breathtaking.

"Shall we continue?" he asked.

I nodded and led Valcor along the path behind Connor and his mare. Their hoofs were leaving long, deepening tracks in the foot high snow. I hated to disturb the serenity of the unmarked mounds, but we had no choice. I could not sit there and stare forever.

My wonder with the landscape never ceased, but it became only the backdrop for the unpleasantness of the cold ride. By lunch time I was shivering and wishing I'd stayed home. Connor called a halt to let the horses rest and drink from a creek nearby that wasn't completely iced over. We'd brought food and ate a little while standing beneath a large hickory tree. Connor leaned with his back against the trunk, staring out over the land while munching on deer jerky. I ate my bread quickly then hugged myself.

"Are you cold?" Connor asked.

I looked at him. "No," I said sarcastically.

He eyed with with derision. "Why did you not just answer honestly?"

"If you're going to ask a stupid question, expect a stupid answer."

Connor's jaw clinched. "Stupid?" he repeated. "This coming from the woman who does not even know how to count money."

I glared at him, but looked away when I felt my eyes sting. That had hurt. It had hurt so much because it was true. I was stupid, compared to him and Achilles. As well as everyone else here. The ignorance was not a feeling I was used to. I'd always been intelligent. When it came to studies, anyhow. Now I was learning how little I really knew about life.

"I did not mean that," Connor muttered.

"Me, either," I told him. "Yeah. I'm cold."

Connor whistled and the horses looked up. He made a noise and called to Akohsa:tens. Valcor followed her over to where we were standing. I petted his mane and he nuzzled against me, making me grin. The warmth of his breath was welcome, if not pleasant, on my face.

"Come on," Connor said as he mounted his horse.

I got on Valcor and we continued our journey. I glanced at Connor as we rode. His hood was covering his face, and I couldn't see his eyes.

"Can I ask you a stupid question?"

I saw his mouth go from the strait line it was into a slight curve that could be considered a grin. "I suppose," he said.

"Where are we?"

"John's Town," he answered.

I was surprised he hadn't hesitated before answering. He obviously knew the land well. Or he was pretending to. I was inclined to believe the former. The answer really meant nothing to me. The territory was foreign. I couldn't be sure about what state we were in. All I was certain of was that it was somewhere around New England. I began to wish I'd paid more attention in my early American history class. Maybe then I'd be a bit more knowledgeable about the land and life.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Lexington," Connor answered.

"Massachusetts," I realized aloud.

Connor nodded. "Have you been there before?"

I shook my head. I only knew that Lexington was not far from Boston. I had been to Boston. Though, I doubted I would be able to recognize it now. It would only be a shadow of the city I knew. I was struck with the revelation that I was seeing the nation at it's birth. It was incredibly humbling. This was all a part of a history I'd never thought mattered. Lessons were so trivial and unimportant. I had never given them the attention they deserved.

I felt sad to know how the states would shape themselves, so far from the intended ideals of the minds that founded them. The cynical recollections of the future made me glad I wasn't there anymore.

I tightened my grip on Valcor's reigns and smiled at the landscape. I was freezing cold, hungry and all around miserable. Yet I had a stronger sense of contentment even with these discomforts than I'd ever felt in my life.

I glanced at Connor, the strange young man that had led me here. "Thanks," I muttered.

He eyed me with confusion, not knowing what he'd done to earn my gratitude. His mouth worked for a moment before he formed a response.

"You are welcome."

I chuckled at the amount of insecurity in his voice. It was funny when he was thrown off his guard.

The store was not what I expected. But I should have anticipated that. So many things confounded me. It was only one room and had very little selection. There were skins, bolts of fabric, food and some other items that the owner had acquired through trade and wanted to sale. Some of them were of native design; beaded jewelry, blankets and and clothes.

The store was more populated than I would have imagined. Apparently it served as a hang out spot for the citizens of Lexington. Most of them were hunters, gathered around the hearth to converse and keep warm. Everyone looked at Connor and me when we entered. I wasn't sure which one of us they were staring at. Both of us were dressed odd compared to everyone else, not to mention Connor was carrying enough weapons to qualify as a mobile armory. We stood by the fire for a moment to warm up before shopping. The heat was welcome after spending the night huddled in a fur blanket next to a small campfire. Connor was shivering slightly as he stood next to me, rubbing his hands together. I moved to the other side of him so that he could be closer to the flames. He gave me small grin of gratitude.

I heard one of the men behind us let out a loud huff and mumble something derogatory about natives under his breath. I didn't catch all of what he said, but I got the meaning. He was basically implying that Connor was my pet and not deserving of kindness. I saw my companion's jaw clinch, but he said nothing. I turned to the man and glared at him.

"What did you say?"

He smiled at me, but didn't repeat the words. "Sorry, sweetheart," he slurred. "Didn't realize you wanted to be a squaw."

I narrowed my eyes at him. I started to retort, but Connor put his hand on my shoulder. "Ignore him, Faith," he said. "His words are not deserving of a response."

I looked at Connor. He was clearly angry, but I didn't understand why he was being so calm. It occurred to me that he might be used to such insults. That possibility only made me more angry.

"I guess you're right," I said. I made sure to speak loud enough so that everyone could hear me. "If I valued the opinions of arrogant pricks like that, I'd be just as dissatisfied as every other woman who was unfortunate enough to give him attention."

I didn't turn enough to see what effect my words had on the man, but I saw Connor's reaction. It was almost funny how I was able to pinpoint the exact moment his confusion became slightly amused embarrassment as he understood what I had meant.

"Okay," he murmured, unsure of how to respond.

I felt warm enough to start browsing. I left Connor standing by the fireplace and wandered around looking at everything. Nothing was priced. I found a few things I was interested in. I was actually drawn to the tribal items. I found a pair of boot that I loved and was sure would fit me. I asked the proprietor how much they were.

"How will you be paying?" he asked.

"Money," I stated.

He seemed to find the answer satisfactory. "Twelve shillings."

Using estimates and a quick calculation of how much I was willing to spend, I decided what all I would buy. I got the boots, a jacket, a few yards of material, scissors, soap, and a razor for less than what I had figured. With still so much money left over, I began to look at the jewelry. I noticed a necklace sort of like the one Connor was wearing. The claws on it were smaller and darker in color. The leather strap held five of them, whereas Connor's only had three. I wondered what they were from. So I asked Connor if he knew.

"A wolf," he told me.

"Oh," I said. As I put the necklace back where I'd gotten it from, I couldn't help but notice the size difference between it and Connor's. For some strange reason, I'd always thought his necklace was made from the claws of a wolf. Obviously, I was wrong.

"What are those?" I asked him, gesturing to the bones around his neck.

"The claws of the first bear I killed," he said.

I stared at him, thinking he was kidding. He looked serious. "Really?" I mused.

"Yes," he said.

"Why only three?"

"Because the others were damaged," he told me.

"Oh," I muttered again.

We left without me buying anything else. As we exited, I noticed a stray cat taking refuge from the snow on the railing of the store porch. I paused to rub it. It began to purr as I did. I looked at Connor.

"Can we keep it?"

He frowned at me. "I do not think E:rhar would enjoy having a cat around."

I knew he was talking about the dog that hung around the house. I always fed it, but I thought it was just a community pet. I didn't know it belonged to Connor or that he'd given it a name. I stood up and looked at him.

"Is his name Mohawk for dog?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

I laughed. "You're not very creative. I'm surprised you even call me by my name."

I put my stuff in my saddlebags and petted Valcor before climbing into the saddle. He whinnied happily at me.

"What else would I call you?" Connor asked as he mounted Akohsa:tens.

"The Mohawk word for girl," I stated.

Connor watched me as we began to ride back toward home. It was still early in the day and I was hoping we could make it most of the way before sunset. I was not looking forward to spending another night outside. It was beginning to flurry and the clouds were dark and thick with the promise of more snow.

"If I were to call you anything, it would be aonha."

I glanced at him. "What does that mean?"

"It is the word used to describe a woman you are familiar with," Connor told me. "Such as a sister or friend. Or one you do not respect."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "What's the Mohawk word for ass?"

Connor grinned, but remained silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanien'keha:  
> E:rhar - dog  
> aonha - term for a girl you know well or don't like  
> Akohsa:tens - horse


	10. Spirits and Argument - 1773

As February progressed, I began to read a lot of Achilles' books. He didn't mind sharing as long as I put them back where I got them when I was done. It was a good reprise from all the work I did. It also helped take my mind off the dreams I was continuing to have. I knew they were about this conflict between the Assassins and Templars, but I was unsure of their purpose. Achilles and Connor were my only ties to that world. I had no personal experience with either faction. Nor was I inclined to delve deep enough into the lore to choose a side. To me, it was like politics. I preferred to stay neutral. The reasons for my dreams confounded me because of that. I felt like I was being pulled to choose. And I didn't want to. I had promised Achilles I would keep his secrets, and I would. But I wasn't inclined to pledge loyalty to his cause if I didn't feel the views fit my beliefs. My allies were my allies, not matter their allegiance.

I asked Achilles for more information on the war. He told me some of the stories, but they didn't give me any insight to my visions. He gave me permission to browse through the literature in the archives passed down through the Brotherhood. They were tales about the lives of previous Assassins. There was even information about Templars in the documents. I found it extremely interesting and far too fantastic to be true, even if it wasn't helpful to my situation. I discussed everything I read with Achilles. He assured me every bit of it was factual. Even the parts about the spirits Ezio claimed to have spoken to.

"Have you ever talked to the spirits?" I asked Achilles.

"No," he said. "But Connor has."

That surprised me and I decided to ask Connor about his experiences with the spirits. I felt drawn to such knowledge. I was unsure why, but I wanted to know as much as I could about the strange beings. I wondered if they had anything to do with my being here. Those thoughts could be considered conceited, but I had no other explanation for my time travel.

I approached Connor while he was in the basement after getting authorization from Achilles to go down there. I was struck by how it was set up. It was like a war room. There was a fighting ring, a training dummy, weapons and armor. Connor was in the middle of a ferocious attack on said dummy at the moment. His tomahawk was in his right hand and there was a knife in his left. He was so focused on what he was doing that he didn't hear me descend the steps. I watched him as he fought. He moved so fast, every swing and slice deliberate and powerful. I had never thought of him a warrior before. I knew he was a good hunter, but I'd had no idea he was a fighter. Especially not such an amazing one. His speed, his talent, his skill. They were remarkable. I wondered if there was anyone who could match him.

Connor finally paused in his imaginary battle and stood panting for a moment. He was still unaware of my presence. I took another step toward him. He didn't turn. I cleared my throat. Connor swung around to face me.

"Sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

The young man wiped sweat from his brow and released the blade in his hand. It snapped back into the holster on his wrist. I realized what it was as he did. It was a hidden blade. The signature weapon of the Order of Assassins. I'd read all about their design and functionality in the literature Achilles had. I thought they were a fascinating item. I had wanted to see one, but it had never crossed my mind that Connor had one. I guess I had never really considered that he was an Assassin before. I stared at the bracer on his wrist until he moved it from my field of vision.

"Did you want something?" he asked impatiently.

I progressed a few steps farther into the room, looking at my surroundings with interest. "I was just wondering if you had time to talk for a minute."

"About what?" he asked, watching me.

"Um..." I paused. I wasn't really sure how to begin. My directness seemed to confound Connor most of the time. I supposed I should ease into the subject if I wanted him to respond positively. I also began to wonder if it was a topic he'd even want to discuss with me. Maybe it was something he didn't like talking about at all.

I noticed the pictures hanging on the far wall and walked over to take a closer look. They were photos of Templars with hand written notes to displaying their name and rank in the Order. I'd read about them all, but this was the first time I'd see their pictures. I studied them.

"Haytham Kenway is Edward Kenway's son, right?"

"Yes," Connor told me. He was at my side, gazing at the portraits.

"I wonder why he became a Templar," I spoke. "I mean, Edward was an Assassin. I know he died when Haytham was young, but still...You'd think he would have raised his son a little better. Did he not even think to warn him about the Tempars? Or did he just not care enough to want his own son to follow in his footsteps? It's weird, isn't it? It kinda gives a new meaning to the term dysfunctional family."

I looked at Connor. He was watching me with an annoyed expression on his face. I guessed I had insulted him by speaking about one of the members of his order in such an coarse manner.

"Sorry," I told him. "I didn't mean to make it sound like Edward was a bad Assassin."

"What did you mean, then?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. I was just talking."

Connor looked away for a second. "Achilles did not tell you who my father is, did he?"

I shook my head.

Connor pointed to the top picture on the wall. The one of the Templar grand master, who's father I had just been talking about. "His name is Haytham Kenway," he stated with agitation. "That makes Edward my grandfather. I would appreciate it if you would refrain from insulting my ancestors."

I felt sort of bad for what I'd said, but irritated that Connor hadn't told me that sooner. He'd had the opportunity to stop me. "Why didn't you just say that to begin with?" I asked him. "And I didn't insult Edward. Exactly."

"You implied that he did a poor job raising my father."

"Mostly because he died," I defended, knowing it was a lame attempt. "If anything, I was insulting Haytham for being a traitor. You're not mad about that, are you?"

Connor gritted his teeth. "You should remain quiet about things you have no right to speak of, Faith. You are not an Assassin. You are only a maid to them."

His words didn't really offend me so much as amuse me. "You're still in training," I retorted. "That means you're not an Assassin either."

Connor gave me a veiled sneer. "Is that what you think? You are wrong. I have achieved my rank within the Order."

"Really?" I stated. I gestured to the photographs on the wall. "All your targets are still alive so you're obviously not a very good Assassin."

Connor glared at me. He took a step closer, using his height to look down at me. He was attempting to intimidate me. But it wasn't working. I stood my ground and rolled my eyes at him. That angered him more and his nostrils flared. I knew I had insulted him as a man and as a warrior. But what little remorse I felt for doing so, I refused to show.

"You think it so easy to take a life?" he stated rhetorically, as he eyed me with contempt. "I doubt you would fare well in any any form of combat. You could even defend yourself against a mere animal and required the protection of a 'poor Assassin'. Tell me again how I am the failure."

I gritted my teeth at him. He had no right to say such a thing. I had not even had a chance to defend myself against the wolves. Despite my knowledge to the contrary, I maintained the illusion that I could have fended them off without his help.

Connor's eyes watched me intently. The shadow of a grin played at his lips. "You can say I do not scare you, but there is fear in your eyes."

He turned away and left the basement. I seethed in rage as I watched him leave. I had never met anyone so arrogant and self-centered in my life. No one had ever made me as angry he did at that moment. I didn't even want to be in the same country as him, let alone the same house.

I stomped up the stairs and grabbed my jacket off the coat rack. Achilles came into the hallway as I opened the door.

"Faith!" I paused at the demanding tone in his voice and looked at him. "Where are you going?"

"For a walk!" I spat. "Don't worry. I'll be back in time to make you dinner."

I slammed the front door on my way out and traipsed through the snow with no intended destination. The chilled air bit at my hot face, irritating me even more. I cursed Connor in my head for thinking me so weak. And cursed myself for refusing to acknowledge that he was right. The thoughts of how much I hated it here formed in my head, but without vindication.

I felt icy drops on my cheeks. I looked at the sky and saw no snow falling. I wiped my face, stunned to find that I was crying. I stared at the wet drops on my fingers. I never wept. Why I would be doing so now was a mystery to me. I brushed the dampness on my jeans and continued to walk. I didn't really pay attention to where I was going or to anything around me. I just stumbled blindly along the path my feet chose.

When the sun and my anger began to go down, I went back home.


	11. Apologies and Promises - 1773

I sat on the couch in the upstairs room trying to concentrate on the words printed on the page of the book I held in front of my face. I reread the paragraph a third time but still couldn't process what it said. My mind was still on my fight with Connor. I was debating on apologizing to him when he got back. But my pride dissuaded me from doing so.

I hadn't said anything when I'd come back. Achilles had watched me fix supper in silence. He didn't ask about why I'd been upset and stormed out. I expected him to. But he gave me my space. I respected that about him and gave him a short hug as I gathered his empty plate after supper. He was polite enough to ignore it. I knew he wasn't really comfortable with the affection, but I felt keen on giving it. I'd never had a bond with anyone like I had with him. He was the closest thing to a father I'd ever had. He didn't refrain from reprimanding me, but was fair about it. He provided the rules and structure that I had always associated with a true home environment. And he was kind to me, but kept his boundaries firm. I loved Achilles. In a purely platonic and wholesome way. And I knew he cared about me, too. He didn't have to say it. He showed it. That was enough to make me happy to be here.

With a sigh, I closed the book and put it on the table. I pulled my legs up to my chest and hugged my knees as I gazed out the window. There were opaque circles of frost around the edge of the glass panes. The sky was was turning dark with wisps of bright clouds zigzagging it. I watched as they changed their color from a dark orange to light gray as the sun continued to set.

I looked around at the light tapping on wood and saw Connor standing in the doorway. He was watching me nervously, avoiding eye contact and glancing frequently at the ground. His anxious appearance was uncharacteristic. I frowned at him.

"May I come in?" he asked in a shy voice.

I glanced around to make sure that I wasn't in my bedroom. I found it odd that he was asking permission to enter. This was a common room. I had no say in who came and went here.

I shrugged at him. "Sure."

Connor walked in slowly and stood at the end of the couch where I was sitting.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior," he said. "I took what you said out of context. I know you did not mean your words as an insult. I was wrong to take them that way."

I watched him. I hadn't expected him to say he was sorry. I knew why he'd gotten angry. I didn't condone the way he had lashed out, but I understood it. I admired the way he admitted he was wrong. It showed responsibility.

"I'm sorry, too," I told him.

Connor gave me forgiving grin. He moved to the front of the couch and sat down, eyeing me. "What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

All my previous questions no longer felt important to me. My curiosity with the spirits and their responsibility with my being here was rendered moot when I realized how much like home this was to me. I didn't really think I'd had a better life before now. I felt no desire to return to it, at any rate. That gave me no reason to look for answers to my position. This was my life now. If a few strange visions were the price I had to pay for contentment, I'd do so.

"It was nothing," I said.

The skepticism on Connor's face was evident, but he didn't press for an explanation. He nodded at me. We sat in quiet for a moment. Connor stared at his hands and I stared at mine.

"I am leaving soon," he stated, drawing my attention back to him. "I will be gone at least a month. You are welcome to use my bed while I am away."

I let out a startled laugh and covered my mouth. Connor avoided looking at me. "Sorry," I told him. "I just wasn't expecting you to say that."

He nodded and still didn't look at me.

"Thanks," I said. "It'd be a nice change from the couch. Where are you going?"

"Wherever the wind takes me," he stated. I saw a faint smile on his face. "Mr. Faulkner told me that there are rogue privateers harassing the merchant ships near Nantucket. I would like to offer my assistance."

"Oh," I replied. I wasn't exactly sure what he meant by offering his assistance. "Who is Mr. Faulkner."

"Robert Faulkner," Connor told me. "My first mate. He taught me how to sail. I have never met a finer seafarer than him. He is a good man. As well as a good friend. Maybe someday I will introduce you to him."

"Okay."

There was an awkward silence. I realized I had many of those with Connor. He wasn't the greatest conversationalist. I found it odd that everyone seemed to like him considering how reserved he was. It made me wonder if he was only that way with me.

"I'm sure Achilles will miss you while you're gone," I said, just to break the silence.

"I doubt that," Connor returned, with a grin. "He will be glad to not have me here to bother him."

I laughed. At least he had a small sense of humor.

"Don't worry," I told him. "I'll annoy him for you while you're gone."

Connor chuckled softly. That was the first time I'd ever heard him laugh. It was humanizing. I found myself wishing he would do it more often.

"Can I ask you something?"

Connor looked at me and nodded.

"You don't have to tell me, I just...I was wondering how your parents met."

He surprised me by actually telling me the story. He didn't even seem to mind relating it. "My father helped to rescue my mother from a slaver. He had personal reasons for doing so, but it lead to their meeting. Mother helped him to hunt down a man who was threatening the Iroquois. They became close. But there were too many conflicts pulling them apart and they separated before I was born. Mother never told Father about me. I do not think he knows he has a son."

"Oh." That was the only response I could muster. "I don't think my mom even knows who my dad is."

"You do not even have his name?" Connor asked.

I shook my head. "I really don't even want to know. My mom didn't want me. I doubt he would either."

"I am sorry."

I looked at him. He was sincere. "I'm not," I said. "I think I turned out alright."

Connor met my eyes and smiled. "I suppose that is one way to look at it."

There was another period of silence. But it was comfortable. I supposed if I thought of Achilles as a father, I should think of Connor as a brother. But something was keeping me from feeling that way about him. Maybe it was the fact that we were strangers to each other. We rarely spoke. And when we did, it wasn't meaningful. This was the longest, most pleasant, conversation I had ever had with him.

"I have been thinking," Connor stated. "You should learn to protect yourself."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because the wilderness truly is dangerous. I do not expect you to remain at the house every day. You will want to visit other people. You should be able to defend yourself if you ever find yourself at risk."

He made a good point. And he had stated it in a way that I didn't find demeaning. I nodded at him. "Okay," I said. "What did you have in mind?"

"A pistol would be the best weapon for you," Connor told me. "It does not require much skill to fire and is deadly when accurate."

I frowned at him. "I don't really like guns. Can I have a bow?"

It was his turn to frown. "The bow is not easy to master. It requires strength and good aim."

I huffed. "You think I can't learn to use one?"

"No," Connor said. I could tell he was trying not to upset me. "I think it will take time for you to learn."

"When are you leaving?" I asked him.

"Three days."

I bit my bottom lip. That wasn't much time. "If I promise to stay home while you're gone, will you promise to teach me to use a bow when you get back?"

Connor stared at me in disbelief. It was almost funny to see that look on his face. I couldn't hide a smile. He arched his brow in thought, then nodded.

"I promise."

I was satisfied with that and grinned. Connor stood up and started to leave the room. He paused at the door and looked back at me.

"Please do not touch any of my things while I am gone."

"I already made you one promise, Connor. Don't expect me to make another one so soon."

He gave me stern glare then walked away. I wasn't sure he knew I was joking.


	12. Dedication and Templars - 1773

The atmosphere at the manor wasn't much different in Connor's absence. It gave Achilles more free time, but my routine was much the same. I only had one less person to clean up after.

I think the old man did miss his protege. He would often call on me to play a game with him or talk to me about the creed and requirements of the Assassins. He would get annoyed with me when I made jokes or mentioned that he looked sad about his boy being gone. I took it as a good sign that he was still his usual self. But he spoke of his apprentice more than usual. I sometimes listened without comment as he complained about Connor's naivety and bragged about his dedication.

"I wonder how strong he will be in his convictions when he's finally forced to take a life."

I shrugged and moved my game piece. I didn't know what to say to that. Killing someone was no joking matter, so I forewent humor in favor of solemnity.

"I wouldn't be able to do it," I told him.

Achilles watched me for a while before looking back at the board. "There was a time I felt the same as you, Faith. But it has been many years since I entertained such childish notions."

I stared at him realizing for the first time what he really was. He was a killer. He had murdered many people in his life. I wondered if it weighed on him, the things he'd done. Or if he found enough solace in the fact that what he did was for the greater good to consider that it was wrong. I had idealized the Brotherhood. They did what they did and I withheld judgment because it didn't affect me personally. Yet, here I sat next to a man who was part of that order and believed in it without doubt. And he was a man I cared about. Could I really see him as a good role model when he was ruthless killer?

Yes, I decided. What he'd done would not change how Achilles treated me. If he felt he'd done right, I would let him think that. It didn't mater what I thought. My personal opinions would change nothing and I wasn't going to give up the best part of my life because of his religion. To each their own. And I knew where my loyalty lay.

Even though I didn't promise Connor I wouldn't, I refrained from touching any of this stuff while I stayed in he room. The times I felt the desire to do so, I caressed the bracelet he'd made me for Christmas. I still ogled his mother's necklace, but my longing to hold it was sated. I'm not sure why I liked it so much. I'd seen far more extravagant pieces in my time. But it's simplicity and pure sentimental value made me jealous. I'd never owned anything that wonderful. I think part of my envy was due to the fact that I had nothing from my mom. I couldn't even remember her name. I didn't know what she looked like or how she'd acted. She wasn't even a stranger to me. She was a nobody. Just as I was a nobody to her.

It was the end of April when Connor came home. I didn't realize until I saw him again that I had sort of missed having him around. He was often busy and we never had much time to spend together, but his presence made the house feel less empty.

Plus there was the fact that he had promised to teach me to use a bow. I was planning to make sure he kept his word.

I had just gotten up and was heading downstairs when I noticed Connor on the couch in the spare room. One of his arms was hanging off the edge, and the other was tucked beneath his head as he slept. His mouth was parted and he was breathing loudly. I watched him for a second with a grin. He was sort of cute when he was asleep.

I couldn't let it last, though. I walked over and knelt beside him.

"Connor," I whispered.

He didn't move.

I said his name louder.

Still nothing.

I smiled. I debated on what to do to him while he was unresponsive. I thought of many things. None of which were exactly pleasant. I abandoned them at the possibility that he would respond in a rage. I remembered how strong he was and decided I didn't want to be on his bad side.

But there was one thing I was interested in doing that I doubted he'd let me if he were conscious. I sat down and looked at the hidden blade on the wrist that was dangling off the edge of the sofa. It took me a few seconds to see how it was secured. When I knew, I began to carefully undo the straps. I peeked at Connor's face every so often. It never changed from it's contented restful state. As I slid the bracer off his hand, it twitched. I paused. Connor continued snoozing so I finished removing it without hesitation. I studied the blade with fascination. I could see the mechanism that made it work. I released it. There was a sharp grinding of metal and a snap as the blade ejected from it's holster.

It amazed me that such a soft noise could wake such a sound sleeper so easily. I scooted back as Connor jerked awake, my heart racing. His left hand raised, and I was thankful there was not a weapon there for him to use. Connor noticed it's absence and looked at me. His eyes went to the bracer in my hands. He said what I guessed was a curse in his own language and sat up. He ripped the blade from my hand, closed it and glared at me.

"This is not a toy, Faith!" he yelled.

I pushed myself to my feet and tried not to be too angry at him for yelling. I suppose I had deserved it.

"I'm sorry," I said.

Connor put the bracer back on his wrist and inspected it. I backed up a step as he stood. I thought if I gave him his space, he would calm down. His expression remained groggy and aggravated.

"I asked you not to touch my things," he said.

"I didn't touch any of your stuff while you were gone," I told him. "But, you're home now..."

I knew it was a lame excuse. I didn't really blame Connor for the scowl he gave me for it. Or for what I assumed was a string of curses in Mohawk that flew from his lips.

"So you think that justifies playing with my weapons?"

"I wasn't playing with it," I argued. "I was looking at it. And I tried to wake you first."

Connor let out a doubtful huff.

"I did!" I stated.

He eyed me for a second then turned and began a quick stride out of the room. I followed him.

"Connor-"

"Leave me alone, Faith."

I had intended to apologize to him, but he was being so unreasonable that I resorted to arguing. "I don't understand why you're so mad at me. It's not like I broke it!"

Connor swung around. He looked down his nose at me. The way he did it irritated me even more."You had no right to even touch it!"

I got in his face when he raised his voice at me. I'd controlled myself with him as long as I could. "You can't tell me what I can and can't do!"

Raising my voice only served to make him angrier as well. He glowered at me, making his tone louder than the one I had used. "When it comes to my possessions, I will tell you what I choose!"

"Don't you yell at me!" I shouted.

"Then you do not yell at me!"

His voice echoed through the hall and I was ready to retort in the same way when another voice got my attention.

"Both of you stop yelling!"

Connor and I turned to look at Achilles. He was standing at the top of the stairs. One hand held his cane – the one I'd given him – and the other clutched the railing. I backed off, shocked at how harsh his tone was. He was old and weak, but really frightening when he was mad. Yet, the rage faded so quickly I began to wonder if I'd imagined it. He looked at Connor.

"Welcome home. Go prepare for training."

Connor stormed off to his room and slammed the door.

That's when Achilles looked at me. I recoiled like a child who'd done wrong. "Get dressed and go make breakfast," he said.

For some reason, the calm in his voice was worse than the anger. I felt horrible regret for my behavior and my face grew hot with shame. Achilles limped back downstairs. I started to go to my room. Then I remembered that I had taken the few clothes I owned to the other bedroom. I groaned and walked to Connor's door. As I started to knock, it swung open. Connor was standing there with my stuff in his hands. He didn't look as angry as he had been, but there was still agitation of his features.

"Here," he grumbled as he handed me the pile of clothes.

"Thanks," I mumbled as I took them.

Connor closed the door and I went to my room to do as I was told.


	13. Deer and Respect - 1773

After the fight we'd had, I gave up on Connor training me to use a bow. We didn't say more than two words to each other the first few days he was home. We passed by each other without comment and only spoke in short replies when we were forced to. Achilles acted as though nothing had happened and refused to listen when I wanted to talk to him about the argument.

"I won't take sides," he said. "I'm not interested in which of you was right and which was wrong. Reconcile your differences yourselves or continue to ignore each other. I don't give a damn which. But leave me out of it."

His refusal irritated me so much because Achilles was the only person I had to talk to. But he didn't want me to talk to him. After that, I wasn't in the mood to be around him or Connor. I began to take walks in the woods. I remembered what Connor said about it being dangerous, so I carried a kitchen knife with me when I went. I sometimes only went as far as the back yard, staring at the water beneath the cliff. Sometimes I went all the way to neighbors' and spent time with Lance, Dianna or the boys. Other times, I just wondered around the forest.

The weather was becoming nice. The wind was still chilly, but the icy cold had left. It rained quite a bit, so the forest floor was mostly muddy and slick. The trees were beginning to get some color to them and the plants were blooming. It was a beautiful sight.

I sat down by the stream and listened to the sounds of nature, letting them bring me peace. I loved being out here. It was relaxing. I rested my back on a large rock and looked around. I noticed a deer in the clearing a few yards away. I watched it graze. It perked it's head up every so often and looked around between bites of grass.

After a few minutes, the doe stood abruptly. She must have heard something. She looked startled. She let out a noise and began to run back toward the woods. After a few feet, she fell over. She struggled, trying to get back up for a moment, then stilled and moved no more. A familiar man in a white and blue coat approached the deer. He knelt next to her. His hand gripped the arrow protruding from her neck and yanked it out. He paused for a moment and looked in my direction. His hood and the distance made it impossible for me to see Connor's face. But I know he saw me. He was still for a few breaths, then stood up. He lifted his kill and began to walk back toward home.

I had repaired the back door as soon as the snow had melted. It was nice to be able to get to the pump without having to go all the way around the house. What wasn't so nice was going out to get water and seeing a headless deer hanging upside down in the back yard as Connor skinned it. I made a face at the scene.

"Can't you do that some place else?" I asked him.

Connor only glanced at me, failing to respond. He went back to cutting the flesh off the deer, ignoring me completely.

"That's disgusting," I told him.

"Then do not watch," he replied, without looking at me.

I huffed and began to look for the bucked I'd left by the pump earlier earlier that morning. It took me a few minuted, but I finally found it. Beneath the deer and filled with blood.

"Dammit, Connor!" I stated. "I use that bucket for water."

He looked up at me. "It can still be used for water, Faith."

I glared at him. "But I need it now."

Connor picked up the pale, dumped the blood out of it and held it out to me. "Here. I am done with it."

I didn't take it. "I'm not touching that," I told him.

Connor sighed loudly, and muttered something in Mohawk. He went over the pump and began to rinse out the bucket. Then he walked over to me and held it out again. "It is clean now," he said in a tense voice.

I crossed my arms, giving him a hard stare.

"Stop acting like a child," he said.

"Stop acting like an ass," I returned.

"Faith," he spoke in an exasperated tone. "I washed it so that you can use it."

"You didn't wash it," I told him. "You rinsed it out."

"What is the difference?"

I glanced down and said nothing. I realized he was trying to be nice in whatever way he knew how. I felt he owed me more than just a halfhearted attempt to clean a pale, but I took it anyhow. I guess it didn't really matter what had been in it before. I was only using it for dishwater right now.

Connor went back to cleaning his doe. I looked at him. Even after his effort to mend fences, I couldn't keep from vocalizing my irritation.

"Don't expect me to cook that for you," I said.

I heard him emit a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl and he stood up. He turned to me with agitation. "Do you ever grow weary of arguing?"

"I wasn't trying to argue," I said. "I was..."

I couldn't think of anything to say because he was right. I had been continuing the argument. I looked at the bucket in my hands then back at him.

"You want me to apologize again?" I asked. "Fine. I'm sorry."

Connor gazed at me. "That was not sincere."

I groaned in frustration. "I'll tell you what, when you apologize for yelling at me then I'll apologize to you for playing with your knife."

His expression became one of stubborn refusal. "I do not owe you an apology," he said. "I had every right to yell at you."

"Oh my God," I stated. "You really are an ass."

Connor gave me a stern glare. He walked over to where I stood and looked down at me. "Do you not understand the importance of respect? Did you not consider how I would react when awakened to the sound of a blade being drawn? I do not take such things lightly, Faith. You should consider yourself lucky I did no more than raise my voice at you."

I silently wondered if he was right, but refused to let myself think he was. As a warrior, perhaps anger was his go-to response for such situations. But still, he had not been in danger. He should have known that.

"So, it's disrespectful to look at someone's stuff while they're asleep, but not to shout at them?" I returned.

Connor glanced away. I could tell I had made my point. But I didn't know how much good it would do. That his next words were in agreement almost shocked me.

"I may have overreacted," Connor muttered.

"You think?" I responded sardonically.

Connor frowned at me. I suppose I should have just stayed quiet. He never took well to sarcasm. He as far too literal. I hoped he would just choose to ignore my words, as he usually did.

After a moment, he did.

"I am sorry I yelled at you," he said.

"I forgive you," I replied. "And I'm sorry I looked at your hidden blade without asking you first."

Connor gave me a barely noticeable grin. "I forgive you."

With things back to as normal as they got, I began to fill the bucket with water. Connor went back to cleaning his deer. We glanced at each other occasionally. But neither of us said anything until I was ready to go back inside. Then I looked at him.

"You-you remember how you said you would teach me to use a bow?"

Connor turned to me. "Yes," he said. "Do you still wish to learn?"

I nodded.

"Okay. Then lessons will begin tomorrow."

I smiled and went back inside to fix supper.


	14. Teaching and Learning - 1773

It was after lunch when Connor and I headed into the forest for some target practice. I told Achilles what we had planned. He was fine with it, provided it didn't interfere with my chores. I knew by 'chores' he meant his meals. I promised it wouldn't.

Connor gave me his old bow to use. It was more slender and shorter than his current one. It was also aged and plain. I asked him why I couldn't use his. It had a pretty design and a nicer grip.

"The draw weight is suited to my strength," he told me.

I wasn't sure what he meant by that. I had the notion all bows were the same. "You're just afraid I'll break it," I muttered.

Connor chuckled. "You will not break it. I doubt you would even be able to pull the string enough to fit an arrow."

"Really?" I said offensively. "You think I'm weak because I'm a woman?"

"No."

"That's what it sounds like."

Connor sighed. "Very well," he said. "Prove me wrong."

We exchanged bows. His was quite a bit heavier than the one he'd given me. I lifted it and pulled the string. Or tried to. It was very taught. I only managed to move it about six inches. I gave the bow back to Connor. He grinned at me as he handed me the other one.

"You were right," I said quietly.

He was gentlemanly enough to not gloat, and accepted the comment with only a shrug.

Before Connor would give me an arrow, he lectured me on how to properly hold the bow. He suggested I keep it raised to eye level to help with my aim. I found it harder to ready it when I held it that way, but I did as he said. I understood why Connor had told me to wear my hair back when I released the string. As close as it was to my face, it would be easy for my hair to get attached to the string. I wondered if that's why he wore his the way he did.

The first arrow I fired didn't go very far. I found the technique involved more difficult than I had thought.

"Well, that sucked," I admitted.

Connor looked at me. "If that means you did poorly, I agree."

"Shut up," I told him jokingly.

"Retrieve the arrow and try again."

I walked the few feet, picked up the arrow and walked back to my position.

"Remember to keep a good grip on the bow as you release," Connor advised. "And only steady the arrow with your back hand. Rest it on your front, but do not hold it. And aim high to account for the arch."

I did as he said. I adjusted my hands and steadied them. I sighted for a moment before releasing. The arrow went a couple yards and nailed a slim birch tree. Connor looked at me.

"That was good."

"I was actually aiming for the oak behind that one," I told him.

"Then you require more practice."

I started to give him a sarcastic response, but changed my mind. Instead, I went and got the arrow and begin again. Our session lasted about two hours. By the end of it, my arms were sore and tired. Connor said it wasn't bad for my first day and that we would pick up where we left off tomorrow if I wanted. I told him I did. As we started to go back to the house, I remembered that I had never seen him use his bow up close before. I asked him if he would show me how it was suppose to be done. He nodded. He got his bow and looked around for a target.

"Do you see that maple tree?" he asked.

I squinted and nodded. It had to be a good twenty feet away.

"Keep your eyes on the orange leaf on the lowest branch," he said.

I looked where he told me to. There were a few orange leaves on the lowest branch. I didn't focus on any certain one, I just kind of watched them all. Connor readied his arrow, barely took a second to aim and fired. The leaf at the center of the tree disappeared.

"Damn," I breathed. "You're better than Green Arrow."

"What?"

I told him a bit about the superhero I used to read about, told him that he was the best archer in the world. When Connor understood it was a compliment, he nodded and thanked me.

"I am sure that there are people better than I am," he stated modestly. "But not many."

I smiled. "Wow. You're not the least bit conceited, are you?"

He considered. "I am only being honest."

I laughed and we began to walk home.

"How long have you used a bow?" I asked him.

"Since I was old enough to hold one," he replied. "I was raised to be a hunter."

"In your village?"

Connor nodded. "It is called Kanatahseton. My people are Kanien'keha:ka, The People of the Flint."

I didn't know much about Indians and found what he was saying to be quite interesting.

"Do many people in your tribe speak English? Or did Achilles teach you that, too?"

"Most of my people speak Kanien'keha," Connor told me. "But it was my mother who taught me English, not the old man."

"You speak it pretty good," I said.

Connor grinned. I suppose it was the incorrect adverb I had used. "Better than you," he murmured.

"I can speak proper English," I told him. "But I prefer slang."

"You know that complicates the language for the learner?"

I nodded. "That's why English is the hardest language to master."

We walked for a bit and he glanced at me. "Do you speak any other languages?"

I shook my head. "I can say a few words in Italian, Spanish and French. Mostly swear words, though. But I do speak fluent geek."

Connor frowned. "What is geek?"

"The language of smart, unpopular kids who read too much," I muttered.

"You mean outcasts?" he questioned.

I nodded.

"I understand that language," he said. "I am an outcast as well."

I glanced at him. I had never thought he felt that way. He always acted so confident. I had forgotten that in this time period, most natives were thought of as heathens and savages. Everyone on the homestead accepted Connor. But I doubted it was like that everywhere he went. I remembered the incident with the man at the store. I wondered if it was like that everywhere Connor went. Or if it got worse in the larger cities. The harsh words, the derogatory comments. It irritated me that people could be so racist. Connor was a nice guy. He didn't deserve to be treated such disrespect just because his skin was a different color. I personally found his tanned complexion beautiful. It made me jealous. I could achieve a nice color when I sunbathed, but I really didn't have the time.

"Well, I think you're cool," I told him.

Connor eyed me, trying to decided if I was complimenting him. I smiled at the confusion on his face. "That means I like you," I said.

"Oh," he murmured. "Then I suppose I think you are cool, as well."

I laughed at him and he frowned at me.

"Was I not suppose to say that?" he asked.

"No," I said. "The lingo just sounds really weird coming from you."

"Why?" he asked me.

I shrugged. "Because you're always so proper," I told him. "You don't use contractions, you're smart, you always speak so nonchalantly. I'm just not used to hearing you use non-standard speech."

A small grin formed on his face. "I would probably feel the same about hearing you speak the way I do."

I looked at Connor, thinking that he could actually be fun to be around. He was more relaxed now than I'd ever seen him. More like a normal teenage boy. I wouldn't mind hanging out with him more if he could act this way all the time.

"I do not doubt that," I told him in a tone like the one he often used.

"Don't mock me," he muttered in return.

I felt comfortable enough to give him a playful shove and he grinned at me.

We arrived back at the house. I paused before going in and looked at him. "What do you want for supper?"

"Deer," he answered casually.


	15. Chocolate and Firsts - 1773

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Connor's birthday is said to be April 4th, but I disagree with the timing of his conception.  
> I wanted to make travel times coincide with actual history, therefore, I moved it to May.  
> I kept the day. That it's also Star Wars day is a coincidence.

On May 4th, I went about my usual routine as if nothing were different. I honestly didn't know there was anything special about that day. Not until Connor and I were practicing and he let it slip that it was his birthday. He said it as if it didn't matter. I merely made a comment about him being sixteen and he corrected me.

"Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?" I asked him.

Connor shrugged. "I did not think it worth mentioning."

I frowned at the amount of truth he put into the words. "Regardless, now I have to make you a cake."

"I do not need a cake," he said.

"Yes, you do," I argued. "Everyone needs cake on their birthday. Especially a chocolate cake."

Connor grinned. "You only want chocolate."

I agreed. It was my favorite. "Chocolate's great," I told him. "That's why everyone says it's a substitute for sex."

Connor's face turned red and he looked away quickly. He always reacted that way when I said things that could be considered provocative. I wondered if it was just because I was a woman or if he'd really never heard things like that.

As time wore on, I began to wonder if there were another reason his embarrassment around me. The day we set up my bed was the first time I considered that Connor might actually be attracted to me. I had been sure Connor and I could set up the frame ourselves, without Lance's help. The woodworker gave in only after repeated assurances on my part. So Connor and I worked alone to put the frame together and set it in place. Unfortunately, after it was together, I decided I didn't like where it was positioned. Connor got irritated and I told him I didn't need his help to move it. But he had helped anyhow. I pushed from one side as he pushed from the other. Progress was halted when my side got caught on a loose floorboard. By that time, I was tired and hot. And the frame was extremely heavy. Lance had crafted it all out of solid oak. It was bulky and sturdy. I had to ask Connor to help me lift it enough to get the leg free. His idea was to stand behind me and lift from the top post instead of from the lower frame.

It worked. But the position we used wasn't exactly ideal. Not for friends, anyway. I know I couldn't have smelled very good, covered in sweat as I was. And I'm by no means beautiful. My appearance is average, if anything. But it was the first time Connor and I had been physically close to each other in such a way. I guessed that was why he got aroused. I'm sure he had not meant for it to happen. But he was young. I think most seventeen year old males don't need a sexy situation to achieve an erection. They just need a situation.

In any event, I was quiet as Connor backed up and turned away from me. I knew any comment would only embarrass him more. I really didn't believe he had a reason to be ashamed. I found it flattering and began to look at him differently.

It was around then I realized Connor was a good looking man. I began to watch him often. In doing so, I realized that he sometimes watched me, too. He tried to hide that he did, but I would catch him glancing as I bent over or stretched. I admit I tried to get his attention after that. I'd sometimes go without wearing my bra or walk around upstairs in nothing but my tank top and shorts before bed. I also found excuses to get close to him. I'd brush by him in the hallway even thought there was plenty of room for us to pass. I'd sat right beside him and look over his shoulder while he read the news every evening, often wearing my bed clothes. And I began to get handsy with him. Not in an inappropriate way, but I'd touch him often on the arm or hand. A few times I put my arm around his shoulders when we were walking home from the woods. He didn't really discourage me. He never reciprocated it, but he allowed it. The faint, abashed smiles he would give me were enough to let me know he liked the attention.

As the weather grew increasingly more pleasant, I started doing more work outside. I cleaned the stables, tended the yard and washed the outside of the manor. I also began to take some of the laundry to the creek to wash it. It was a good excuse to go swimming. I'd clean the clothes, lay them out to dry then stripe down to my underwear and bath in the hip high water. I always brought a blanket to use as a towel, which I'd lay on for a while and let the sun warm my skin. Once as I did this, I dozed. And I dreamed.

In my vision, I was lost in the darkness. I was feeling my way around a rock wall and eventually reached the end. There was something odd about the stone in front of me. It gave off a strange glow. I noticed a hole and reached out for it.

I need the key, I thought.

I awoke, startled and with a sense of urgency I didn't understand. I sat up abruptly, gasping. It was then that I noticed Connor kneeling next to me. His expression was one of concern and confusion.

"Faith," he spoke soothingly. "Are you alright?"

I nodded quickly, though I didn't really feel alright. I was damp, but it wasn't from the dip in the pool. I was covered in a cold sweat, as if I had a fever. My heart was racing. I rubbed my face and looked down to see that I was still in my panties and bra. I pulled the cover around me so that Connor would not feel uncomfortable. He watched me intently.

"You were having a bad dream," he said.

I chuckled dryly at his obvious deduction, but said nothing.

"Would you like to tell me about it?"

I looked at Connor and shook my head. I knew he was trying to be kind and attentive, but the fear was beginning to fade and talking about it would only revive the unpleasantness.

He nodded in acceptance and began to stand up. I took his arm and he paused, looking at me. If he expected me to speak, he was disappointed. I hadn't planned to say anything; didn't know what to say. I only knew I didn't want to be alone right now. I moved closer to him and put my arms around his waist, resting my head against his chest. I listened to his heart beat. It was comforting and rythmatic.

I was afraid Connor would pull away when I felt him tense. But after a few seconds, he relaxed. He rested his weight on his knees, moving just enough to lean toward me, and held me. It felt so great to be close to him, to feel his arms around me. I never wanted to let him go. I realized how much I cared about him. I realized I was falling in love with him.

Connor began to stroke my hair softly and slowly. I wondered how he felt about me. I knew he cared. But not in what way. Did he think of me as a sister? Or as a friend? Was his attraction to me only out of convenience? Or was it genuine interest? I began to wish silently that he loved me as much as I loved him. I wanted him to tell me how he felt. I was too afraid to express my own feelings. I wasn't sure I could even put them into words.

I wrapped my arms tighter around him, getting as close as physically possible. Connor responded by sliding his arm under my knees and lifting me up. He straitened his legs and sat me on his lap, pulling me close. I leaned my head on his shoulder. He smelled like a combination of sweat and pine needles. I loved it.

I looked up at his face and saw he was watching me. Our eyes met and knew he was thinking the same thing I was. I also knew he wouldn't act on his desire to kiss me. So I kissed him.

My soul sang as our lips met. My hands went behind his head, my fingers tangling in his hair, and I pressed my mouth harder to his. Connor's hesitation faltered and he kissed me back. His hands caressed my jaw. I parted my lips enough to rub his with my tongue. Connor allowed me entry. I kissed him greedily, as though I were starving for his affection. I nibbled his lower lip and caressed his teeth and every part of the inside of his mouth I could reach with my tongue.

Connor began to mimic my movements. It created a longing in me I'd never felt before. No one had ever kissed me in such a way. Nor had I ever kissed anyone like this before. In a way, we were both virgins. I'd never given myself to anyone the way I was willing to give myself to him.

I paused for air, then lowered my mouth to his neck and began to suck his pulse, caressing his skin with my teeth and tongue. I could feel Connor's arousal at the intimacy and it fed my own desire. I removed my lips from him long enough to kneel in front of him. The blanket constricted movement as I attempted to straddle him, so I tossed it aside.

Connor's eyes searched me for a moment as I rested my wight on his hips. His lips parted, but I didn't give him a chance to speak. I kissed him ferociously. He was thrown off balance by my forcefulness, placing his hand on the ground behind him to keep us both upright. I didn't pause. My hands went to his shirt, massaging the muscles beneath it. Connor's free hand went behind my head, cradling it. He returned the kiss the best way he knew how, using what I had taught him to subdue me. I locked my arms around his neck and let him do as he wanted with me. When I released a moan into his mouth, Connor regained his strength. He leaned forward, tilting me back. His arms held me against him. His kiss was long and passionate.

I was dismayed when Connor broke the connection a moment later. I leaned in to renew it, but he backed away from me. He stared at me for a while, saying nothing. His brown eyes gazed at me with repressed desire.

"Faith..."

I knew what he was going to say. I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to stop. I wanted to kiss him forever. I wanted to spend the rest of my days wrapped in his embrace with his lips on mine. It was a wonderful dream.

But life wasn't a dream.

I pulled myself from his embrace and stood up. I began to dress. My heart was still pounding, my breathing erratic. I could still taste his breath on my lips. The wight of what had happened made me feel like crying. I had destroyed our friendship. Things would never be the same between us. The bond we'd forged was forever warped.

I could feel Connor watching me, but couldn't bring myself to look at him. I gathered up the laundry and went home, blinking back tears.


	16. Feelings and Sleep - 1773

I lay in bed unable to go to sleep. My mind was reeling from what had happened that morning. I'd spent the rest of the day effectively avoiding Connor. I was too ashamed to even go for my bow lesson. When we saw each other at supper, we didn't speak. I tried not to even look at him. Achilles didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. If he thought our behavior was strange, he said nothing. Perhaps he guessed we'd had another fight.

I'd cleaned up and went to my room after dinner, telling Achilles I wasn't feeling well. Connor had went to the basement, as per usual with him. I had heard him go into his room about an hour later. But I hadn't heard him come back out since. I found it strange that he would retire so early. He usually studied longer before bed.

Sighing, I got up and lit a candle. I knew it would be a while before I was able to rest and just laying in the bed was making time drag. I quietly opened my door and walked to the library. Using the dim light from the single flame, I found the ledger of Assassins. I lighted the lamp on the wall near the couch and sat down to read. I'd read it all before, but I'd gained new information since them. I flipped to the stories about Edward Kenway and reread them. I found it difficult to believe that this was Connor's grandfather. Their personalities were so drastically different. I didn't really know Edward, but from what I read he was sort of selfish and a womanizer. He was a pirate who joined the Brotherhood later in life. The book even stated that the Order had doubts about his loyalty in the beginning, but that he had proven himself before his death.

I began to wonder what Haytham was like. Was his more like his father or his son? Or was he just an even combination of the two? It was weird to think about. Even weirder that he was a Templar.

I glanced up as Connor entered the room. My heart fluttered for a second when I saw him. He was wearing his buckskin outfit again. The one he'd had on when I first met him. Memories of being in his arms flooded my mind. I attempted to quell my infatuation and remain indifferent.

"Are you having trouble sleeping?" he asked as he sat down on the couch. He maintained a foot of space between us that almost hurt.

I nodded. I didn't trust myself to speak. I was afraid I would say the wrong thing and make the situation worse.

Connor was quiet for a moment. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbed his hands together. I waited for him to say something else. The silence was deafening. After a time, I decided to speak.

"Why are you still up?"

"For the same reason you are," he said. He sat back and looked at me. "Would you rather me leave you alone?"

I frowned at him. That was the last thing I wanted from him. Did he not know that? I felt the sting of refusal and looked away. "What I'd like," I told him in a strained voice, "is for this to be less awkward."

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes watching my profile. "I would like that, too," he whispered.

I turned my face to him. He attempted a wry grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. I hadn't realized that he had become confused by what had happened. But his gazed held an insecurity that was foreign for the young Assassin. He'd always been self-assured enough to chose the right course of action in any situation and I'd relied on him to determine what we should do next. I hadn't thought something as simple as a kiss could make him doubt himself in such a way. The sudden revelation that it had been his first kiss stunned me. I knew he didn't have much experience with girls, but I always figured there was braided maiden in his village that had held his attention at some point.

"I'm sorry," I said.

Connor's brow wrinkled. "You have no reason to apologize, Faith" he told me. "You have done nothing wrong."

"I feel like I have," I muttered.

Connor frowned at me. It was a wounded grimace. As though he bore the responsibility for my emotions. "I did not mean to make you feel that way," he said softly.

I stared at him. I didn't want him to think this was all his fault. We were both to blame and I had no regrets about kissing him. I shook my head noticeably. "I-"

I stopped. I had started to tell him I love him. But I was afraid it would only make him more unsure of how to proceed. Connor's tone told me that he didn't rue the kiss either. That was enough to give me hope that something could develop between us. But I felt it was too soon to speak deep feelings. I needed to be patient with him. Let him determine the speed.

"I really like you, Connor," I said instead.

"I really like you, too, Faith."

I got the sense he wanted to say more, but he was hesitant. The silence was torture. I didn't want to push him, but not knowing how to act was killing me. If it had been anyone else, I would have said what I thought without considering the outcome. But Connor was different. I cared for him too much to speak freely when I felt my words could do harm. I waited for him to find his voice. It took him a while.

"I am afraid you would not be happy with me," he said.

"Why would you think that?" I asked.

"Because I have so little time to offer. I have so many responsibilities that I am afraid you would feel like I do not put you first. You deserve better."

I chuckled nervously. I found that so characteristic of his personality. He never put what he wanted first. He was selfless like that. He always used what little free time he did have to aid the other inhabitants of the homestead. He was a reliable and dependable man. I admired that about him.

"I know what your life is like," I told him. "If it bothered me, I wouldn't even want to try."

"I do not want you to be disappointed with me."

"I've never been disappointed with anything you've done," I said. I tentatively took his hand, holding it gently and encouragingly.

Connor grinned at me. "I hope you never are."

"Stop doubting yourself," I muttered.

I scooted closer to him and put my head on his shoulder. I felt him press his lips against the top of my head and smiled. I didn't see a possibility of this ever going wrong. It felt too right. Being with Connor made sense. It was the only thing that had meaning in a purposeless existence.

"I think we should keep this a secret from Achilles," Connor said. "For now."

I hadn't even thought of his mentor, but in doing so, I had to agree with him. I wasn't sure how Achilles would respond to us forming a relationship. I doubted he'd be pleased with it. He'd most likely forbid it. He wanted Connor to remain focused on his duties and this would only be seen as a distraction.

"I was just thinking the same thing," I told him.

We sat there in silence for a while. Each one of us just enjoying the pleasure of being close to the other. We didn't need words to express anything. The feel of Connor's hand in mine was enough to let me know he cared. His willingness to see how far our relationship could go was all the promise I needed. I wanted a future with him. I had the intention of making one. But – for now – I was just happy in the moment.

Connor sighed. "We should get some sleep."

As much as I agreed with the sentiment, I was loath to separate from him. "I know," I said. I still didn't release him. And he didn't release me.

"At least you have a bed now," he reminded me.

I nodded and frowned. "I still prefer yours, though."

"Would you like to trade?" Connor asked me.

I laughed. "No," I said, giving him a cunning grin. "But I wouldn't mind sharing."

Connor watched me. It surprised me that he was actually considering it. It wasn't that I didn't want to sleep with him, but my words had been an attempt at playfulness.

"Achilles wakes me," Connor told me.

Even though I hadn't been totally serious, I felt disappointment at the fact that we couldn't share a bed. It wasn't for sex that I wanted to sleep with Connor. I wouldn't deny him if it was what he wanted. Never. I only wanted to be next to him. It was a pure form of intimacy I was desiring, not love making.

With a sigh, I told him that I knew that.

"Would you like me to walk you to your room?" he asked.

I smiled. "I'd love that."

We held hands as we walked down the hallway together. Connor gave me a sweet kiss on the forehead as he wished me a good night. I went inside and fell onto my bed with a tired and elated sigh. I tried to stay awake for as long as I could. I was afraid that if I fell asleep I'd wake to find that I'd imagined everything. I wanted this to last forever.

Unfortunately, when you want sleep is when you are least able to find it, and not wanting it is the time it comes much too quickly.


	17. Affection and Attention - 1773

Keeping my relationship with Connor secret from Achilles proved to be more difficult than I initially thought. Connor did spend a lot of his time training, and that kept us apart. But the moments we were together during the day had to be feigned as casual. I longed to touch him and kiss him, but Connor maintained his distance from me. Even when Achilles wasn't in the same room as us, Connor would refrain from showing any kind of affection toward me. But he would smile at me often. It made me want to embrace him more.

Connor and I still made our trips to the woods every day. We did so under the pretense of training, but we really just used the opportunity alone to make out or talk. Mostly make out. It was hard for me to keep from kissing him when I had the chance. No matter how much I did, it never sated my longing. The more I kissed him, the more I wanted to kiss him. It was like an addiction.

The first few day, that was all we did in the forest. Then Connor suggested we use one of the two hours for actual training. He said it was only partly because he didn't want Achilles to become suspicious by my lack of progress. Mostly it was because he truly felt I had talent and wanted me to hone it. He said he would feel better if I knew how to protect myself.

So I continued to practice with my bow. It was distracting at first, but after a while, I began to find fun things for us to do with the training. I'd barter for kisses in exchange for hitting a target. Connor participated in these games as well. He was already great, but he liked the challenge. His tasks were much more difficult than mine. I constantly thought of new ways to test him. Such as firing at a hawk flying by without killing it or distracting him as he took aim. He sometimes missed, but I'd kiss him for his effort anyhow. Not for pity on his part, but pleasure on mine.

Most of my free time after Connor and I started courting – or whatever it was called these days – was spent in silent daydreams about him. I often sit around the house or outside trapped within the confines of my own imaginary world. I know Achilles noticed my uncharacteristic behavior. When he was compelled to comment on it, I'd make up some excuse pertaining to my dreams to validate my spells of quiet.

"It's been ten minutes since you've turned a page in that book," Achilles stated.

I focused my gaze on him. He was sitting at the desk. The account book was open, and he had a pen in hand. But he was watching me intently. I had honestly forgotten he was in sitting in the study with me.

"Oh," I murmured. "I was...thinking."

Achilles turned back to the logs and began to scribble. "If your thoughts pertain to that book, I'd rather not hear them," he stated.

For some reason, Achilles was uncomfortable with me reading Moll Flanders. I suppose he thought it was inappropriate for a young girl to be reading about a woman who used her femininity and wiles to gain husbands and money. He hadn't told me I couldn't borrow it, but he had suggested I find something more suitable. I didn't bother telling him that I had read – and seen – far more provocative stories in my life thus far. I'm not sure how he would have responded to that. Not well, I imagine.

"Actually, they were," I told him.

Achilles sighed and concentrated on what he was doing. I grinned at the effectiveness of the lie and at his reaction.

"Have you considered what you're making for supper tonight?" he asked.

"Fried chicken," I answered. I knew that was his favorite and it would win me back in his good graces despite my unsavory taste in literature.

I noticed a smile on his face, but Achilles said nothing.

I looked toward the hallway as I heard the front door open and shut quietly. A moment later, Connor strode by. He paused just long enough to meet my eyes and give me a faint smile before leaving my vision. The only reason I had chosen to sit downstairs and read was so that I could see him when he got home from hunting. I wanted more than just a secretive grin, but I would take what I could get.

I stood up, knowing he hadn't made it to the basement door yet, and walked to the kitchen. Connor was just getting ready to pull the candlestick as I passed him. I slowed. I let my hand brush against his, my forefinger circling his knuckle. He glanced at me. I felt his digit tighten on mine for just a second. It was those sweet, caring moments of clandestine contact that helped me get through the day without screaming. I loved him so very much. I wanted to tell him. I'd almost done it a few time, but I had stopped myself. I was scared, nervous. I was unsure how he would respond.

We released each other and Connor went downstairs. I entered the kitchen to start on supper, smiling stupidly.

Hiding those expressions from Achilles was very difficult. Dinner time was tense and awkward. Connor and I avoided looking at each other. We would speak, casually, if the situation prompted it. But we each tried to maintain the same indifference we'd always had toward the other in front of Achilles. The fact that the old man conducted most of the conversations helped. Sometimes.

"Are you planning a trip to Boston soon?" Achilles asked Connor.

The other looked up from his food and glanced at his mentor. "I can go tomorrow if you need something," he said.

I bit back a frown. I hated it when Connor had to go to Boston. He was always gone at least two days when he did. And that was only when he took the Aquila. If he chose to go on horseback, it was a much longer trip.

"There's no rush," Achilles told him. "But I have a list of things for you to pick up on your next visit."

Connor nodded.

"Have you been practicing with the rope dart any?"

Connor's face became a deep shade of pink at the question. I struggled with the heat on my own cheeks and tried to hide my face with my hair. It was the mention of the Sheng Biao that cause us to react with such discomfort. I wasn't sure if Connor had ever used it. But he had let me use it earlier that day. On him. The memories of the game we'd played with it flooded my mind. It had been fun. Very fun. I knew Connor had like it.

I peeked up and my eyes went to the faint love bite on the left side Connor's neck. I hoped Achilles hadn't seen it. It wasn't that visible. On such a dark complexion, it was easy to miss. Yet, Connor's actions unwittingly drew attention to it. He attempted to rest his chin in his hand, but had to abandon it because that action involved putting his elbow on the table. He instead chose to raise his collar higher in an attempt to hide the mark from that man who was watching him with a confused frown.

"I-I have been...using it," Connor mumbled.

Achilles stared at him as the young man avoided the elder's gaze. I waited for the old man to say something about the hickey. Or Connor's behavior. But he didn't. He only went back to eating and the table became incredibly quiet.

I had never been so uncomfortable in my life as I was at that moment. I stood up, picked up my half empty plate and announced that I was no longer hungry. I went to my room, lay face down on the bed and let out an embarrassed groan into my pillow.

Later, when I heard Connor come upstairs, I met him in the library and smacked him on the shoulder. I didn't do it hard. I doubt he even felt it that much, but he stared at me in shock.

"You're an idiot!" I hissed.

"I told you he would notice," Connor returned in a harsh whisper. "And you are the one who...How am I an idiot?"

I shook my head at him in exasperation. What was done, was done. There was no scense harping on it. I was more concerned with what would happen next.

"Did he say anything to you?" I asked nervously.

"No," Connor answered.

I sighed in relief. "Maybe he didn't notice it, then."

Connor gave me a doubtful stare. I knew it was a long shot. Both of us had reacted far to suspiciously for Achilles to not think something was going on. In a way, it would be a relief if he knew. I wanted to be done with the secrecy. But I was also afraid of how the old man would respond. At worst, he would kick me out. And I didn't want that. I liked it here. It wasn't just because of Connor. I felt like this was home. It was a feeling I was loath to give up.

I wondered if Achilles had just decided to ignore our relationship. That would be the best case scenario. I knew we couldn't hide it forever, but now did not seem the best time to announce it.

"Be more careful next time," Connor whispered.

I smiled at the insinuation of his words. "Next time?"

Connor looked away, his cheeks darkened. "I only meant that, perhaps you should..."

I tiptoed and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "I know what you meant," I said. "But next time it's your turn."

I had never seen my boyfriend blush as much as he did then. It was cute. I laughed at him.


	18. Love and Demonstrations - 1773

Sometimes, late at night, I would sneak to Connor's room. I would wait until I was sure Achilles was asleep before braving the venture down the hall. Even though I wanted to, I never stayed the entire night. Mostly I would lay in Connor's bed next to him for an hour or two before returning to my own. It made Connor nervous when I did this, but he never sent me away.

The first few nights, we sat up talking in the low candle light. It was never about anything important, only trivial chit chat about things we had in common. There wasn't much, to be honest. We were completely different people. But each of us was fine with the fact that we shared so few interests. We were getting to know each other and finding that we liked what we were learning. Connor told me some about his past, I told him some about mine. We focused mostly on the happier parts of our childhood. There weren't many for either of us.

With so little to discuss, the conversations inevitably dwindled and we would spend more and more time on physical affection. That would range anywhere from holding hands while we gazed at each other in perfect quiet to heated make out sessions. Connor was tentative at first, stopping when things got too intense. That eventually ended and we did go all the way. It wasn't all that great. It was over quickly and we were both unsure how to act once the deed was done.

I studied him intently as we sat in awkward silence afterwards, looking for any sign of regret at the decision. Connor noticed my stare and gave me an abashed grin. It was sweet and genuine. It made me want to say something reassuring, so I said the only thing I could think at the time.

"I love you."

Connor stared at me in silence until my face became hot with the realization of what I'd just told him. I started to take it back, to pretend I hadn't meant it. I was afraid he would respond negatively. I was scared he didn't feel the same and things would be over between us. Before I could open my mouth, Connor spoke.

"I love you, too."

I looked back at him, feeling a deep relief and elation at his statement. I didn't know how to express my happiness, so I giggled. I know it must have sounded silly and lame, but it was all I could do. I was in love with someone who was in love with me. It was the greatest moment of my life.

Connor smiled. "I have wanted to say that for a while," he whispered.

"Why didn't you?" I asked.

He shrugged nervously. "I was afraid," he said. "That you didn't not feel the same way."

"I've loved you for a long time," I told him.

"Oh," he returned. He let out a breathy chuckled. "I am glad."

I was smiling like an idiot, I know. Connor didn't seem to think that, though. He smiled at me in return and held my hand adoringly.

We sat there for a while longer, whispering our new sentiments of affection for each other, then I went to bed, sure that I was the happiest person on earth.

I slept long and hard. I woke up and went about my daily chores in a good mood. I didn't see Achilles or Connor anywhere in the house as I worked. When I finished cooking breakfast, I went outside to gather water. I noticed Achilles standing nearby, in front of the graves of his wife and son. I approached him and he glanced over his shoulder at me.

"Hey, Pops," I greeted. Calling Achilles that had started as a joke, but he hadn't seemed to mind it. It had stuck after a while and I always referred to him by it now.

"Faith," he returned in an emotional tone.

I guessed the day held some significance in his former life. But I didn't ask what. I felt he deserved his privacy. If he wanted me to know, he would tell me. But Achilles didn't speak. I stood next to him in silence, staring at the headstones.

After a while, Achilles began to walk back to the manor. I walked with him.

"Connor tells me your skills with a bow are improving," he stated.

I shrugged. "He's a pretty good teacher."

Achilles looked at me. His gaze was searching and critical. It made me wonder if he knew that teaching was not all Connor did with me. I pursed my lips together and looked at the ground.

"He believes you have potential," Achilles said. "I wouldn't mind witnessing it for myself. I think a demonstration should be arranged."

I nodded. "Okay," I said. "But I'm not really that good. Not like Connor is."

Achilles stopped and turned to me. "Don't judge your skill by his, Faith. You are still a beginner. It would take many years to reach that level of expertise."

I found his confidence in my abilities reassuring. Achilles was not one to compliment achievements. Not to the person in questions face, at any rate. He bragged about Connor, but only when Connor wasn't around to hear it. To his apprentice, Achilles only ever cautioned more practice.

I grinned at him. "Do you want me to show you now?"

"After breakfast," Achilles told me. "And I think Connor should be present."

That caught me off guard and I frowned. Achilles only smiled and walked back to the house.

I stood still for a moment, watching him walk away. Achilles never did anything unintentionally. If he wanted Connor there for the exercise, there was a reason. I wasn't sure what it could be. His reasons plagued me all through breakfast.

As I gathered my bow to prepare for the demonstration, I realized that I hadn't seen Connor since last night. The thought of seeing him again after what we'd done made me equal parts nervous and excited. I wasn't sure how I should behave in front of him now. Especially with Achilles around. I attempted to avoid smiling at him as I walked outside to where he and Achilles were standing. I could tell by Connor's stance he was trying to fake the same disinterest with me.

Achilles sat on a large rock and put his cane across his knees. "Let's begin," he said.

"What do you want me to shoot at?" I asked.

The old man gave me an expression of exasperated disappointment. I saw Connor shake his head just noticeably at me. I gathered this was part of the test. And so far I was not doing well.

"Fine," I stated. I scanned the horizon, picked a target and readied my bow. I aimed for a few breaths and fired. The arrow struck close to the center of the elm I was aiming at. Achilles watched nonchalantly.

"Continue," he said.

The lack of specified targets made me hesitate. Yet, I did as he said. Each of my arrows hit close to the mark I was aiming for. When my quiver was empty, I turned to look at Achilles.

"You still need more practice," he said. "You delay far too long and the distance you can accomplish is lacking."

"I am still a novice," I reminded him.

Achilles nodded. "But after two months, I expected better."

I huffed in indignation as Achilles stood up.

"When you go for your lesson today," he said, speaking to Connor and me both, "I suggest focusing more on work than fun."

His words gave me an agitated shyness. I only stared at Achilles as Connor looked away with a scarlet face. The old man looked at each of us and shook his head.

"Neither of you is half as clever as you believe yourselves to be. Though, I don't condone your actions, I can't stop them. But I expect nothing to change. Your progress will not suffer," he said to Connor. The young man nodded. Achilles looked back at me. "I expect better results next time."

"Okay," I said.

As the old man walked back to the house, I exchanged a glance with my boyfriend. His expression was apologetic. I grinned at him. Connor gave me a faintly noticeable


	19. Thorns and Cobbler - 1773

Achilles' knowledge of our relationship did nothing to make spending time together easier. Connor and I were still forced to refrain from showing affection around the house. If Achilles thought we were getting too friendly, he would give us chores to do that separated us. We still had our training time, but we had to spend most of it actually training as Achilles had requested weekly demonstrations of my progress.

Connor thought that since I was doing well at hitting stationary targets, I should try for moving ones. He suggested that I begin going hunting with him. I didn't really like the idea of shooting animals, but I went along with it. It gave us a little more time together and I benefited from the practice. It was difficult, but after a couple weeks, I became a decent archer. Not nearly as good as my teacher, but I could hold my own.

Connor also taught me how to track animals. He showed me how to spot the signs of recent activity for much of the wildlife in the forest. He recommended ways to mask my steps and remain hidden. He even devised games for us to play to help me with my stealth and reflexes. The reward for successfully evading him was enough to make me do my best. But I didn't mind it when he caught me either. Which he did often because of his fantastic skills.

I thought I had hidden myself well this time. I'd concealed the tracks leading to my current position and crouched in the underbrush, taking short, quiet breaths as I listed to my surroundings. I focused my senses and was able to make out the chittering of squirrels and the soft song of the brook nearby. I remained still, denying any urge I felt to shift my weight.

Among the other sounds of the woods, I was barely able to make out the giving of bark above me. I glanced up without moving. The dense shrubs made it difficult to see. But I thought I saw movement. I waited, hoping Connor wouldn't find me. After a few more minutes of nothing, I began to think I'd been successful. I smiled to myself. That's when I felt a pair of strong arms go around my waist and a familiar voice whisper in my ear.

"Found you."

Though I wanted to be angry that my attempt had been unsuccessful, his embrace brought a smile to my face. I let out a soft chuckle and glanced over my shoulder.

"You always find me."

Connor release me and stood up. He offered me his hand. I took it and got to my feet, not relinquishing my grip on his fingers. He grinned at me, tightening his own hold.

"I am sorry that you never win," he said.

I shrugged. "I guess I'm just not very good at hiding."

Connor frowned at me. "That is not true. You are very good at hiding."

I arched my brow at him. Connor didn't usually sugarcoat his opinions to placate me. He was never harsh, but he was honest. He always told me if he felt I was doing poorly in our exercises. He knew when I wasn't really trying and when I was doing my best. He was fair in his critiques, using polite words for his disappointment and suggesting ways to improve that never came off as offensive. I really never thought he would patronize me. But I couldn't help but feel he was doing that now.

Connor must have seen the doubt on my face at his words. He began to explain. "It is not because you are bad that I am able to find you, Faith." He paused, searching for what to say. "I have...a unique ability when it comes to tracking. It...it is difficult to explain."

I looked at him. He appeared to be telling the truth. What was more, he looked skeptical about relating his ability to me. It was not an expression I saw on him often.

I tugged his hand, inviting him to follow me. I led him to a large, flat boulder and sat down. He sat next to me, watching me with uncertainty.

"Try to explain," I told him. I said it in a kind way, reassuring and interested. I wanted him to know that I believed him.

Connor sighed. "It is vision," he said. "But does not come from my eyes. I can...sense things; people, animals. That is why I have always been a good hunter. This...ability also helps me to detect danger. I do not know how. But I know when someone poses a threat to me, even if I have never spoken to them."

It took me moment to understand all he was saying. "So," I said. "It's like, um, a Spidy sense?"

Connor frowned at me. I decided to use a different analogy.

"I mean, extrasensory perception? A sixth sense?"

After a moment consideration, Connor nodded. "A sixth sense, yes. I suppose that is what it is. I have heard it called many things. My people refer to the ability as Eagle Vision. Because the eagle sees all from it's height."

I nodded. "Eagle Vision. I like that. It sounds noble."

Connor let out a short laugh. "The eagle is a symbol of courage and wisdom among the Kanien'keha:ha. It is an honor to carry the feather of one. It means you have faced a great trial."

I glanced at the feather in his hair. "Is that an eagle's feather?"

"Yes," he told me.

I waited to see if he would tell me the story of how he had earned it. When he didn't, I asked. Connor smiled at me.

"I became an Assassin."

"Oh," I murmured. I hadn't really thought of that as a trial. But I suppose it was. It had been hard for him. It still was. I guessed it always would be.

With the mood so solemn, I decided it was time to change the subject. I tried not to be serious most of the time. I preferred to keep my life upbeat. Tense situations made me uncomfortable. I took Connor's hand, stood up and urged him to his feet.

"Come on, cutie," I said, making grin. "We're going to pick blackberries."

I had failed to grab a bucket on our way to the woods, so I made Connor carry all the berries I foraged from the large bush in his hands. He didn't really want to. He even offered to go back and get a pale, but I promised I'd make it up to him later.

"How?" he asked, not even thinking about it.

I gave him a grin and a wink and his cheeks became pink.

When we got back home, Connor began to put all the blackberries in a bucket and run water over them while I attempted to remove all the thorns from my palms. I loved blackberry cobbler, but I was beginning to wonder if it was worth all the pain just to get to make one. I got almost all of them out, but one had buried itself all the way into my skin. The more I tried to remove it, the deeper it went.

"Dammit," I hissed.

"Let me see," Connor said. He took my hand and studied the injury. "I can remove it."

With that he flicked his wrist and produced his blade. I instinctively jerked away as I realized he was going to dig the thorn from my hand with a dagger. My wide eyes regarded him as he frowned at me.

"I will not hurt you," he said. "Any more than I have to."

"You're not using that," I stated. "Get a needle instead."

Connor huffed and rolled his eyes at me. "Do you trust me?"

"Yeah," I said, rather meekly. "But..."

Connor took my hand again, drawing it close to him. "Close your eyes," he said.

I hesitated, receiving a reprimanding glance from him. Then sighed and shut my eyes. I tensed, waiting for the pain I knew was coming. After only a slight pinch, Connor told me to open my eyes again. I did. He put his knife away, holding up my thornless hand for me to view.

"I told you I would not hurt you," he said.

I grinned at him. I found it sweet that he had been so incredibly gentle with me. I also felt like I owed him something for doubting him. I held my hand up.

"Will you kiss it now?"

Connor frowned. "Really?"

"It hurts," I told him in a whiny voice. "Make it feel better."

Connor avoided smiling at me and pressed his lips to my wound for a second. "Better?"

"Not really," I told him.

Before he could respond, I tiptoed and put my mouth to his. He leaned in, letting me relax my stance. I put my arms around his neck as I felt his go around my waist. I didn't want to pull away. It felt too nice.

It was Connor who broke the connection. "Do you feel better now?" he asked.

"I'm getting there," I said.

He smiled at me. I was about to kiss him again when the back door shut loudly. Connor released me quickly and backed away as Achilles came outside. I glanced at the old man, knowing he had caught us kissing. He gave us a stony look.

"Connor," he said. "Don't you have training-"

"Yes," the youth answered before Achilles even finish the sentence.

Connor began to go to the house, throwing me a small glance over his shoulder as he walked. I smiled and waved at him before he went in. When it was just me and the old man outside, I gave him a dissatisfied frown.

"Don't pout," he said. "I'm sure you'll find other opportunities. What's in the bucket?"

"Blackberries," I told him. "I'm gonna make a cobbler tonight."

I saw the approving look on his face and smiled at Achilles.

"Well," he said, his tone slightly happier, "you best get those washed and in sugar soon, then."

I nodded and began to do as he said. Achilles watched me with the shadow of a grin on his face. I wasn't sure if he was glad he had interrupted Connor and me, or because he liked the idea of dessert. I didn't bother to ask.


	20. Heat and News - 1773

August brought waves of heat from which there was little reprieve. I had thought tending the fires during the bitter cold of the northern winters would be the most miserable part of my eighteenth century life. But after spending three weeks with no air conditioning, I was willing to give up everything I owned for cold weather.

Connor being gone made the summer all the more miserable for me. He'd sailed off on the Aquila at the beginning of the month in an effort to keep the Atlantic safe from pirates. I had asked to accompany him, but I had only done it halfheartedly. So it didn't really bother me when he said no. He had given me a tour of his ship before he departed, though. I honestly didn't find it as impressive as he considered it to be. That was a fact I kept to myself. I knew it would hurt his feelings if I told him I wasn't that into something he took great pride in.

The house was far too stuffy to get anything done during the day, so I spent most of my time outside. Achilles didn't mind me being slack in most of my chores as long as I still made sure he was fed every meal. That was easy with the abundance of fresh produce from the late spring crops. I often visited our neighbors just to have something to do. I would help them out with things that needed to be done and take the boys swimming when it got too hot to breath. Sometimes Myriam would join us when she wanted a break. Her and I became close friends during that time. She was one of the few people I told about my relationship with Connor. I think everyone sort of knew we were a couple, but Myriam was the only one I related any details to. It was fun to have someone to gossip with. I'd never really had any friends before.

I lay my head against the muddy bank, not caring how dirty I got. I was too exhausted from the heat to worry about my hair.

"You alright, Faith?" Myriam asked me.

I opened my eyes and squinted at her. She was positioned exactly in front of the sun so all I really saw was the outline of short haired woman.

"I am so sick of this weather," I mumbled miserably.

"Is that all you're sick of?" she asked. I could hear the playfulness in her voice and knew she was grinning at me.

I flicked some water at her and forced a smile. I was far too irritated to banter about how I wasn't missing my boyfriend at the moment. It had been weeks since I'd had a good night's sleep. The warmth made it hard for me to even enjoy food. That made my mood even more foul.

I sat up and dunked my head under the water to clean myself off, then stood up. "I'm going home," I told Myriam.

She nodded at me, a vague expression of concern on her angular features. "See you tomorrow," she called as I wrapped my body in a blanket and began to walk away.

I waved at her from behind, not really feeling like talking.

The walk back to the manor seemed to take forever. I might would have went faster had I not been barefooted, but I doubt it. My legs just didn't want to carry my weight like they should. My steps were lethargic and annoyed.

I was glad when I finally made it to the shady pouch at the side of the house. I sat down on the swing I'd had Lance make me and relaxed in the light breeze. I don't remember closing my eyes. But I must have at some point. The next thing I remember is Achilles waking me late in the evening. I sat up straight and looked at the old man as he leaned over me.

"Sorry," I murmured.

"Are you ill?" he asked.

I shook my head, rubbing the tiredness from my eyes. "It's this stupid heat," I told him. "I hate it."

Achilles sighed and sat down beside me. "Has the summer always effected you in such a way?"

I shrugged. I honestly didn't remember. I guessed it probably would have if I hadn't had a cool place to retreat to. What I did remember was always preferring summer. I used to like to be out in the warmth, swimming or sunbathing. But I'd always had the luxury of electric fans, then. Now I didn't.

Achilles rocked the swing in a mild way that I found soothing. Almost too soothing. I felt like going back to sleep. I leaned over and rested my head on his shoulder, letting my lids droop. The old man didn't seem bothered by my action. He ignored it and looked at the distant cliff.

"Are you not hungry?" he asked after a moment.

I shook my head. I figured he was, or else he wouldn't be asking. It was almost dinner time. "What do you want?" I inquired.

Achilles glanced down at me. "You don't appear to be in the mood to cook," he stated. "I can fend for myself, you know."

I grinned. It was sweet that he was concerned with me. Even though he paid me, I didn't feel like he was my employer. I saw the money he gave me as an allowance, not a wage. I think he felt the same way. Otherwise he would have fired me a long time ago.

"You should go see Prudence," Achilles told me. I frowned at him. "I think you should tell her how you've been feeling. Maybe she will have some insight as to why you're unwell."

"It's just the weather," I said.

"Even so, I would like it if you knew that for sure."

After going back and forth a few times, I agreed to Achilles' suggestion. I only did it to make him happy, not because I wanted to. I thought he was being silly and overprotective. But now I think he knew what was really wrong. I'm certain that's why he told me to see Prudence, not Diana. He knew I could take the new better from a reserved person than someone who was a bit on the outspoken side.

Another reason I believe Achilles already knew I was pregnant is that he wasn't surprised when I told him. He accepted it like I was relating a fact he was aware of. It was a relief, really. I had thought he would be angry, but he wasn't. He wasn't happy. But at least he wasn't mad.

I only got up so early that morning because I had to use the bathroom. Any other day, I would have stayed in bed until late in the morning, as I had gotten prone to doing the last two months. I was so glad I woke up just as the sun was coming up. Not because it was a beautiful dawn – it truly was, the sky was a gorgeous pastel pink and orange – but because I noticed the presence of the Aquila at the harbor as I took a moment to view the sunrise. My heart pounded with joy at Connor being home.

With a large smile, I ran back upstairs and swung open the door to his bedroom. He was laying face down on the bed, still dressed save for his weapons belt and coat. His hair was a tangled, dirty mess. I don't think he'd washed since he'd left home. I didn't care how bad he smelled, though. I jumped on the bed next to him and threw my arms around his waist. He jerked and raised his head to look at me as I called out his name. His eyes only barely opened, but there was a tired grin on his face.

"When did you get home?" I asked.

"Um, late," he mumbled. "Or early. It was dark."

I curled up beside him and pulled his arm over me. After nine weeks apart, it felt wonderful to be with him again. Connor rolled onto his side, facing me and closed his eyes. I knew he was incredibly sleepy. I could tell by his face. But I really wanted him to wake up so I could spend time with him.

"Why didn't you wake me?" I asked.

"You were sleeping," he murmured groggily.

"That's the point of waking me up," I told him. "So I'm not sleeping."

Connor's only response was a tired groan.

"Hey," I called softly. "I need to talk to you."

Connor frowned, not opening his eyes. "Can it wait?"

I was getting irritated that he wouldn't wake up enough to speak to me in a normal tone. I found his uninterested grumbling annoying.

"No," I told him.

Connor sighed loudly. He turned on to his back, pulling his arm off of me. "Faith, please. I had a...difficult trip."

For some reason that angered me even more. I suppose it was because he hadn't considered what I had been through while he was away. He thought things had gone as they normally did. But they hadn't. Not for me. I was under a lot of stress, and I didn't feel like doling out sympathy when I wasn't getting any for myself.

"Leaving was your choice," I said bitterly. "No one asked you to go. You wanted to."

Connor finally opened his eyes. He gave me an irritated scowl. "I left because it was my responsibility," he spat. "I thought you understood that."

I snorted in a highly disrespectful way. It only served to anger him more. "You have responsibilities here, too!" I lashed out.

Connor glared at me, breathing rapidly through his nose. He gritted his teeth. "Leave," he said. "Please."

"Fine!"

I got up and started to leave the room as Connor turned toward the other side of the bed. I paused at the door and looked back at him.

"By the way, I'm pregnant!"

I slammed his door as hard as I could on my way out.


	21. Responsibilities and Proposals - 1773

I hadn't even made it halfway down the hall to my room when Connor caught up with me. I felt his hand go around my upper arm. I tried to pull away from him, but he held me firmly. Not hurting me, but not allowing me to get free. He turned me around to face him. He was fully awake now, his eyes filled with a disbelieving anxiety. I glanced away. I couldn't stand to see his face right now. I felt shame for being so insensitive toward him. Guilt wasn't an emotion I was familiar with. I never really cared how I spoke or acted. Not until recently, until I had met Connor.

I tried again to pull myself from Connor's hold. When his other hand went to my chin, pulling my face up to look at him, I began to cry. His brow furrowed at my reaction, and he watched me for a moment.

"You are pregnant?" he asked. His voice was soft, kind. Not at all the harsh tone he had used with me earlier. For some reason, that made me feel even worse. I didn't understand how he could be so nice to me after I had yelled at him.

I nodded at him, wiping tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand.

Connor released me slowly, but I didn't move. I only stood in front of him, hugging myself. He looked away, as though pondering how he should respond to the news. His expression reminded me so much of the one I had given Prudence when told me that I laughed in spite of my sadness.

Connor's brown eyes fell on me. His visage one of confusion and doubt. I guess he thought I was laughing at him. "How long have you known?" he asked after a long silence.

"Um," I paused to sniffled, "about a month."

Connor took a few minutes to process the information. He ran his hands through his hair, releasing some of the tangles. With a sigh, he looked at me. "Okay."

I frowned at him. That was certainly not the reaction I had expected. I could deal with excitement, confusion, even anger, but I wasn't sure what he was implying with that single word.

"'Okay?'" I repeated. "What do you mean 'okay'? 'Okay' what?"

Connor hesitated. "I mean I will do what is right."

I studied him. I had a feeling I knew what he meant, knowing him the way I did. But I wanted confirmation. "What does that mean?" I asked.

"That I will marry you," Connor stated.

I had thought that was what he meant, but it was still shocking to hear. I had never wanted to get married. It wasn't an institution I didn't fully agree with. It was fine for other people, but not for me. I had always been alone. I thought I always would be. Connor was the first man I had been close to. I loved him, and I did want to spend my life with him. But I had never thought of wedding him.

I looked at Connor. I doubted he had considered marriage before now either. I think he was only mentioning it now because of what had happened.

"You don't have to do that," I told him.

I could tell my words offended him. He gave me a cool gaze, betraying nothing of what he was really thinking. I really hadn't intended to irritate him. I only wanted to let him know he had other options. I didn't want him to spend his life with me only because the situation dictated that was what should be done. That didn't make it what had to be done. Moral standing didn't concern me. I was beyond caring what people thought.

"I choose to," he said.

"Do I get a choice?" I asked.

Connor frowned at me. "Why do you feel that you do not?"

"Because you made the decision without asking me."

Connor was taken aback. Visibly stunned by my sentence. He hadn't even considered what I might want. He thought I expected him to do the right thing. To him, it was the next logical choice. I guess he thought I felt the same way.

"I am confused," he said, needlessly. "I thought...Do you want me to...propose to you?"

"No," I said.

The offended look on his face at my blunt refusal made me wonder if Connor really did want to marry me. I knew he cared about me, but I hadn't thought he felt that way.

"I mean, do you want to propose to me?"

The question seemed to confuse him even more. I didn't understand why. It was a simple question. At least, to me. To Connor, it inferred something else altogether. I had always known he and I were different, that we shared opposing opinions. But this situation gave me a new understanding of just how much we were unalike. I had thought Connor was naive, but this proved it. He viewed the world with such innocence that he honestly didn't know how to react to the middle ground.

I sighed and took his hand. "Connor, I love you. And I know you love me. But I don't want you to marry me just because I'm having your baby. I want you to do it because...you want to be with me."

"I do want to be with you," Connor told me. He pulled my hand, urging me a little closer. His expression one of adoration and contentment. "And it is because I love you that I want to marry you."

"Oh," I muttered, for lack of anything better to say.

Connor surprised me by smiling at me. "Will you marry me, Faith?"

I couldn't help but chuckle at him. He was genuinely proposing to me. I found it sweet and amusing. "You're not going to get down on one knee and ask?"

I had thought the question would bring a frown to his face. I hadn't considered that he even knew about that custom, as he was ignorant about so many. But when he began to kneel, I took his arm and stopped him.

"I was kidding."

"Oh," he said.

There was a moment of silence. Connor watched me expectantly. I realized with a shock that I hadn't answered him yet. I played the words over in my head before saying them aloud. I wanted to be sure I said them perfectly.

"Yes," I accepted. "I will marry you, Ratonhnhake:ton."

He smiled at me. It was the most sincere smile he had ever given me. I wasn't sure if that was because I had agreed to be his wife or because I had finally used his real name. It might have been a combination of both. But mostly the former, I hoped.

October 11, 1773, Connor and I were married. In the eyes of the Kanien'keha:ka, at any rate. There were no legal documents confirming our unity, but it was accepted by his people and by our friends, so that was good enough for me. I'm not really certain Oia:ner was happy with Connor's decision to wed someone outside his tribe, but she had consented. I think if he hadn't been her grandson, she wouldn't have been so quick to give the marriage her blessing. I was glad she did. I wanted to be a part of Connors life in every way. I also thought it was important that our child be raised with a knowledge of it's father's culture.

I enjoyed the few days I spent in Kanatahseton, but I was glad to get home. The two day horseback ride was uncomfortable for me. As were the beds in the longhouse. They were little more than a pallet and the rooms offered next to no privacy. All members of a single family shared a small cubical. There was an optional covering for the front wall, for those who chose not to see and be seen by all the other residence. But nothing more.

It goes without saying that Connor and I did not consummate our marriage the first two nights. Not only was I horribly embarrassed that someone would hear, my pregnancy had given me an aversion to intercourse. My husband was understanding and patient with me. He said he could wait until I was ready. He was happy just to be with me. I think that made me love him more.

I felt a little bad that none of our friends got to be there for the wedding ceremony. But they all gave us gifts when we got home. It was all useful stuff, such as blankets and material we could use for clothing. Lance's gift was the most surprising and helpful, though. He gave us a cradle he'd made. I assured Connor he didn't know about my pregnancy yet, but I hissed the question to Myriam later to make sure. She promised me she'd not said a word to anyone. I doubted Prudence would either.

Achilles didn't say much to us when we returned., other than the obligatory congratulations. I could tell he was happy to have me home to cook, though. He ate two bowls of the cabbage soup I made for supper. I didn't mind. I was glad someone besides me liked it. Connor was not a fan of cooked cabbage. He rarely ate anything that didn't have some sort of meat accompanying it.

After dinner, we sat outside on the porch. Connor and I shared the swing as Achilles sat in a chair nearby. I held my husband's hand as we rocked slowly. E:rhar lay at our feet, his tail thumping against the wooden floor noisily. He was pouting because Connor had scolded him for trying to jump in my lap. I wouldn't have minded. Even though the dog was almost as big as I was, I treated him like a baby. But I think Connor was afraid he would hurt me. Or hurt the child inside me, rather.

"I hope you're ready for what trials lay ahead," Achilles said. He was watching Connor and me with an expression of both sadness and hope. "I'm afraid I won't be of much help to you in the coming years. My experiences are with death, not life."

I gazed at him. "That's a cynical way of looking at it, don't you think?"

Achilles chuckled. "Maybe. But it's true."

"The world is not always so bleak as you think it to be, old man," Connor stated. "There is light as well."

"Occasionally," the mentor mused. "You've always been quick to see what others miss. But that doesn't make you wise."

"No," Connor agreed. "Nor does it make me a fool."

Achilles huffed quietly in agreement then stood up. "I'm going to bed," he announced. "Faith, make sure Connor's up for training in the morning."

I looked at him, wondering why he'd asked me to do what he usually did. Then I remembered that I was Connor's wife and I suppose that duty now fell to me. I sighed and nodded.

"I can wake myself," Connor said.

"Sunrise," Achilles stated. I'm not sure if he was talking to me or his apprentice. "No later."


	22. Chapter 22

I pulled my knees to my chest, feeling the pressure it put against the bump in my lower abdomen. Sighing, I stretched my legs back out and leaned against the arm of the chair. It had been one year today since I'd began my life at Davenport manor. So much had changed since then. I chuckled to myself as I remembered my initial impression of Connor. It hadn't been completely positive. I'd thought he was cute, but never dreamed I could grow to love someone so different from myself.

I wondered where he was now. I hadn't seen him in over a month. Not since Kanen'to:kon had come to tell him that William Johnson was trying to buy the Kanien'keha:ha land. I didn't blame him for being angry. Or for leaving. What did irritate me was that hatchet in the post by the front door. I had thought about removing it a few times, but I knew that would make Connor mad. It would be disrespectful to him and his beliefs. So, I only scowled at it every time I went outside.

I glanced up as Achilles entered the study. He looked at the half decorated Christmas tree that Myriam and I had put up that morning, then at me. Sighing, he sat in the chair next to me. He pulled the box of decorations in front of him and began to sort through them.

"I thought you weren't going to help," I stated with a grin.

"I was hoping my refusal would dissuade you," he said. His eyes went to my stomach. "You shouldn't exert yourself."

I frowned at him. Achilles had become increasing more concerned with my well being since my pregnancy had started to show. I wondered if he'd been the same way with Abigail. The thought of him being an attentive and nurturing husband made me laugh. He glanced at me with confusion as I did.

"Sorry," I told him, attempting to squelch the fit of giggles.

"I think your condition is affecting your mind," he joked.

I only smiled at him as I picked up a bright red bow and hung it on one of the branches of the tree. The evergreen was larger than the one we'd had last year. Myriam thought that since we had so much room, we needed a large tree. I didn't argue with her. I informed Achilles that I was inviting her and Lance to Christmas dinner. He thought that was a good idea. He said he liked the idea of having other people around so that I wouldn't be expecting so much happiness from only him. I knew he was kidding.

"You think Connor will be home for Christmas?" I asked. I tried to sound casual about it, but I'm sure Achilles heard the worry in my voice. I wasn't good at hiding my feelings from him.

"I don't know," he said. "I'm sure he will be if it's possible."

The uncertainty didn't make me feel any better. I really wanted my husband home for our first holiday together as a couple. It just wouldn't be right without him here. I finished decorating the tree in silence, trying not to think too much about how lonely I was. It was sort of bare because we didn't have enough ornaments, but I was happy with it.

"Do you want lunch?" I asked Achilles.

"I suppose I could eat," he said.

I was starving so I went to the kitchen to fix some food while he went outside. I didn't pay any attention when I heard the door a few minutes later. I guessed it was Achilles coming back inside. But my breath hitched and my heart raced when I felt arms go around my waist and recognized the earthy scent of Connor as he whispered in my ear.

"She:kon, kheksten:ha."

I turned quickly in his embrace and hugged him tightly. He smiled at me, that lovely, sweet smile that I had longed to see for weeks.

"You're home!" I stated happily.

"I am home," Connor replied.

"I'm so glad you're home," I muttered as I buried my face in his chest. I held him tighter, refusing to ever let him go. I could hear the okra frying loudly in the pan behind me, but I ignored it. I didn't want food anymore. I wanted my husband. It felt so good to be in his arms again after our time apart.

"I missed you," I told him.

"I missed you, too," Connor whispered. His lips pressed against mine in a quick kiss as his hands moved between us, resting on the prominent baby bump. There was a small grin on his face. "You have grown."

I glanced at him with a somewhat agitated look. He frowned, suddenly nervous about expressing my size.

"I-I mean the baby," he corrected. "Has grown."

I smiled at the insecurity on his features. "I know what you meant," I said. "I've noticed. Everyone has noticed."

Connor grinned. I think it made him proud to think that our child was showing signs of health even before birth. I had received assurances from Catherine and Diana both on how well my maternity was advancing. It eased my mind to hear them relate their opinions on an uncomplicated pregnancy. I worried about the baby a lot. With every new ache and pain I got, I ran to one of the mothers with concern only to receive confirmation that they were normal.

"You're food is burning," Connor stated, pulling me back to reality.

He released me and I turned to move the pan from the fire. The okra was scorched and black. I began to scrap it from the bottom of the skillet into a trash bin.

"Sorry," Connor said from behind me. "I did not mean to distract you."

I smiled at him over my shoulder. "That's okay. I'm glad you did."

He grinned at me. "Would you like me to fix you something else?"

I put the pan down, watching him with amusement. Connor did not like to cook. He avoided it whenever possible. That made his offer all the more meaningful.

"No," I told him. "There's leftover cornbread."

Connor frowned and nodded. I knew he felt I should eat something other than just that. He would have preferred it if I ate meat. He said it would be good for the baby if I did. I assured him that my diet was fine. I know he didn't agree, but he said nothing.

"When you are finished," he said. "I have something for you."

I stared at him as I got a piece of bread and milk. "You mean like a Christmas present?" I asked. I couldn't contain my excitement at the thought. I had never gotten anything for Christmas before. Except last year, when he'd given me the bracelet. I wore it all the time.

"I suppose," he said.

I smiled. "Put it under the tree."

"I would rather give it to you now," he said.

I frowned at him. I really wanted a present for Christmas morning. It was a childish fantasy of mine. To get up that morning and find a gift for me. "Please," I begged.

Connor sighed in resolution. "Very well," he said. "I will do as you want."

He started to leave the room.

"Don't forget to wrap it!" I called after him.

He paused at the door, giving me an irritated and challenging glance before leaving. I only smiled as I sat down to eat lunch.

I sat on the floor in the study, staring at the wrapped gift Connor had put there for me. It was a box about four feet long and a foot wide. I wondered if it were new arrows for my bow. That would be nice. I certainly needed some. And it would be like Connor to give me something I could use. It would also be quit ironic considering arrows were one of the gifts I'd gotten for him. I'd also gotten him a new sharpening kit for his blades. I knew he had been wanting one. I'd only gotten clothes and handkerchiefs for Achilles. He was a hard person to shop for.

Connor came in and sat down next to me. He saw me studying the gift and smiled. "Would you like to open it now?"

"No," I answered. I looked away with disinterest. "I already know what it is."

Connor chuckled. "So you think."

I looked at him. There was a playful glint in his eyes. He smiled at me secretively. I shook my head.

"You're not as clever as you think you are, Ratonhnhake:ton."

He shrugged nonchalantly, letting me think as I wished. "What was it you said?" he asked. "That anyone standing beneath mistletoe was required to receive a kiss?"

I told him that was right.

Connor stood up. He took my hands and helped me to my feet. I let him led me to the vine hanging in the doorway with a smile. The kiss was deeper than I expected. Connor never kissed me like that outside of our bedroom. I guess it was because he had been gone so long. Or because I was his wife now and he was allowed to show me such affection. I enjoyed it very much. Or I did until Connor pulled away abruptly at the loud sigh that Achilles let out when he noticed us. Connor's cheeks became dark with embarrassment as he saw his mentor standing in archway across the hall.

The old man approached us. "Move," he ordered.

Connor and I backed out of the doorway. Achilles reached up and took down the mistletoe that I had attached to the frame of the entrance earlier that day.

"From now on," he told us, holding the plant up, "this is forbidden."

Connor nodded obediently at the old man. I only shrugged.

"It's not like we need it," I said.

Achilles arched his brow at me in disapproval. I fought to hide a grin and I heard Connor attempt to hid a chuckle with a short cough.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Achilles looked his pupil. "Don't lie, boy," he said. "You're not good at it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanien'keha  
> she:kon - formal greeting  
> kheksten:ha - my wife


	23. Loss and Acceptance - 1774

I sat up quickly with a racing heart. I struggled to identify the sound that had startled me. It had been loud. The sound of something large breaking and falling. I glanced around the room. I knew it hadn't come from here. It had come from outside, from the other side of the house.

I looked over at the large shape of Connor on the bed next to me. I frowned at his snoring. How that loud sound had failed to disturb him baffled me. I guessed the depth of his slumber was due to the fact that he had only just gotten home from a two month journey on the Aquila.

It had irked me when he'd left so soon after the new year. Especially since he'd only been home a few weeks. But he had made the argument that he would rather be gone now – while was pregnant – than after the baby had been born. I had reluctantly conceded to his departure, with the impression that he was only going because he was excited about discovering William Kidd's treasure. I didn't see why he was so interested in those stupid letters. I thought they were nonsense, only another part of Kidd's ploy to make people think he'd hidden loot that didn't really exist. But Connor was adamant about uncovering the clues. The way he spoke about it reminded me of a pirate. I made the assumption that he was just like his grandfather. It was an opinion that flattered Connor more than he was willing to admit. I could tell by the glint in his eyes when I expressed my thoughts to him that he liked it, even though he tried to hide his delight.

I got up, hugging myself against the chill of the room. The fire was low, little more than a pile of embers. I wished I had let Connor put more wood on it before bed. But I had been hot then. Too hot to worry about how cold it would get later.

I picked up his coat from where he lay it over the chair and put it on. I wasn't sure if it was fitting for me to be wearing an Assassin uniform while not being one myself. I only thought it was a perk of marriage to don my husbands clothes when I was too lazy to find my own.

After tossing a log in the fireplace, I went into the hallway. I noticed a dim light from downstairs that let me know Achilles was up. I went down to find the old man gazing out the dinning room window. He sighed as he looked at me when I stood behind him.

"I should have had Connor remove that branch before the snows came," he stated.

I looked outside. The snow had come late this year, waiting until the end of February to accumulate. It had started as only furies, but escalated into a veritable blizzard before the day was over. The storm had finally let up the day before Connor had gotten home, but everything was covered. There was almost three feet of drifts surrounding the manor. And it was a wet snow, thick and heavy. The weight of it had caused the weak branch of the oak by the stable to break. It had fallen with the leafless end landing on the roof of the last stall. Valcor's stall.

From where I stood, I couldn't determine the extent of the damage, but I knew there was some. I murmured a cursed as I worried about my horse. I sighed and started to go get dressed.

"It can wait until morning, Faith," Achilles told me.

I looked at him with a concerned frown and he nodded.

"Wake Connor and have him go check on your horse."

I nodded and went back upstairs. It only took a minute to wake Connor up. It stunned me at how easily he was roused, but I suppose that was due to my condition. He feared for something going wrong. I knew it was out of love, but it could be annoying. He didn't always express his anxiety in a sweet way. Mostly he did it through pedantic scolding. And when I was upset, he felt I was being too emotional and chose to ignore my moods. It often made me feel like I was nothing more than an walking incubator.

"What's wrong?" he asked, eyeing me as he sat up. I had noticed that he was more prone to using contractions when he was tired or angry. But it was still odd to hear him speak like that.

"A limb fell on the stable," I said. "Can you go see if Valcor is okay?"

Connor rolled his eyes as he realized I was fine. "It can wait until morning," he muttered as he lay back down.

I glared at him. "What if he's hurt?"

Connor sighed. "He is only an animal, Faith. He will be fine until sunrise."

My glare became a scowl as I realized how insensitive he could be sometimes. I wondered how I had ever thought him nice. Maybe because he used to be. When we'd first started dating, Connor was always nice to me. Now the new had wore off and we both began to see a different side of the other. One that caused us to bicker occasionally.

"Fine," I stated. "I'll do it myself."

I heard Connor curse in Kanien'keha as he got out of bed. I knew he wasn't going to let me go out. But that wasn't why I'd said I was going to. I had every intention of checking on my horse myself. After way he insulted me, I really didn't want his help now.

"Give me my coat," Connor told me.

I took it off and tossed it on the bed. He stared at me as I did, then began to get dressed as I did the same. I didn't have many clothes that fit me anymore. Mostly I just wore some pants I had made that tied with a string and Connor's old shirts. My warm jacket still fit, but I couldn't zip it.

"Go back to bed, Faith," Connor said. "I will see about your horse."

His relenting only because it was something he didn't want me to do only made me angrier at him.

"No," I replied, snidely. "I'd hate for you to miss out on an hour's sleep for only an animal. He'd my horse. I'll check on him myself."

Connor narrowed his eyes at me. I knew my sarcasm had earned me the silent for the remainder of the day. That was Connor's go to move when he was mad. He was good at ignoring me.

"Do what you want," Connor stated icily.

I did.

Surveying the damage up close made me realize that it was worse than I had anticipated. The tree branch had caused half of the roof to collapse and knocked down the end wall. I could hear Valcor neighing in pain from among the rubble, but couldn't see him. Connor tried to make me go back inside while he worked to move the debris enough to get to the horse. I refused, offering to help. That irritated him even more than he already was.

"If you attempt to help, you will end up injuring yourself," Connor told me in that tone of intellection he had grown accustomed to using with me. The one I loathed. "Go back to the house."

"No!" I argued. "He's my horse!"

Connor gritted his teeth. "Fine," he muttered. "Stay. But you will not help."

I wanted to argue with him, but I knew it wouldn't do any good. He had made up his mind. There was no changing it. He was exceedingly stubborn. Even more than me. My main concern at that moment was Valcor. I only wanted him free so that I wouldn't have to listen to his pained groaning anymore. I nodded and stood back.

Connor worked as fast as he could to move the large hunks of wood. I watched, saying silent prayers that everything would be fine. I made plans for what to do with my horse until we got the stall repaired, almost sure they would not be needed.

When Connor finally cleared the junk enough to reveal Valcor, I felt my heart hitch. The poor thing had a large open gash on his back and both of his rear legs were broken. Despite Connor trying to hold me back, I went to Valcor and knelt beside him. I began to cry. I looked up at Connor, not sure what I was expecting him to do.

"Help him!"

Connor gazed at me. "The only way I can help is to end his suffering."

I shook my head violently at him. "No! You're not killing my horse!"

Connor walked over and crouched beside me. I shielded Valcor from him, thinking he was going to end it now. Connor watched me with something like sympathy on his face. It was a drastic change from the ire that had been on his face only moments before.

"Faith," he spoke softly. "You know this is what has to be done. Please do not let his pain continue."

I knew he was right, but I shook my head anyhow. This wasn't what I wanted. Connor put his hand on my shoulder as I wept hard.

"Go inside," he suggested with kindness.

"No," I told him.

Connor was about to insist, but I didn't let him. I had accepted what had to be done. But I didn't want to leave. I wanted to be here when Valcor took his last breath.

"I wanna do it," I whispered.

Connor frowned at me. He opened his mouth to decline, but closed it without saying anything. I guess he knew it would be pointless to deny me. Or maybe he just didn't want to fight anymore. He nodded at me and began to remove the bracer from his left wrist. He placed it on mine and showed me how to release the blade. It felt weird to be wearing a hidden blade. But it wasn't because I hadn't earned it. It was because it was on the wrong wrist. I was right handed.

"End it cleanly," Connor cautioned.

I nodded and ejected the blade. I looked into Valcor's large pitiful eye. I couldn't say anything. I only gave him and apologetic expression and slit his throat as best I could. It was sloppy, but effective. The blood began to pool on the wood floor from the wound and my horse's gaze became empty and lifeless.

Connor knelt next to me and closed Valcor's eyes. "O:nen ki' wahi."

I let the blade recede and began to remove the bracer. I handed it back to Connor and he returned it to it's proper place. He rose and helped me to my feet.

"Go inside," he said. "I will dig the grave."

I nodded and turned to go back in.

It took Connor many hours to dig through the frozen ground, but the did do it. He didn't do it out of respect for the horse, he did it for me. Because he knew how much Valcor had meant to me. It was silly, but I thought of the animal as my first real friend here. He was the first deep attachment I had for my new life. Connor must have understood that. I knew it was a difficult task, digging a grave in the middle of winter just for a horse. I thanked him. He only smiled at me and said it was nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanien'keha   
> O:nen ki' wahi - formal farewell


	24. Babies and Parenting - 1774

Labor and delivery was the most memorable experience of my life. I had never felt such horrendous pain and miraculous joy in such a short span of time. It was exhausting and gratifying. The best part of the entire ordeal was holding my daughter for the first time. Just having her in my arms made me forget everything I had went through to bring her into the world. Looking at her face made all the suffering I had endured worth it.

It amazed me the way Connor stared at his daughter while I held her. The expression on his face was one of pure, genuine adoration. I think he even shed a tear when he got to hold her. He smiled at her continuously as he spoke to her in Kanien'keha. I didn't ask what he'd said. I felt it was private, just for the two of them. After a few days, I noticed he spoke one word to her often, as though he were naming her. I did ask him what it meant when he called her awe:ri.

"It means heart," he told me. "That is what I will refer to her as, because she is my heart."

I thought that was sweet, but still decided on an appropriate English first name to display my heritage. I chose Abigail. It flattered Achilles for me to name the baby after his wife. He thought it was perfect. Connor agreed.

I loved having a child, but Abby's around the clock demands for attention made me useless in all other forms of daily activities. I slept when I could, and it was rarely at night. For the first few nights, Connor and I let Abby sleep in the bed with us. That made feedings easier for me, but did little to help me relax. I began to put her in her crib between nursing. That didn't work very well. Connor would always get her if she cried and bring her back to our bed. It amazed me that he heard her so well. I would have guessed sleeping through a crying baby would be easy for him.

By the time Abby was six weeks old, she would cry every time I put her in her crib. I longed to have a night to rest without her pawing on me or waking me every couple hours. I began to get irritable and moody. Connor responded to my frustration by returning it with agitation of his own. It got to the point where every word we said to one another was laced with anger and spiteful. I realized my husband could be very sarcastic when he wanted to be.

At the beginning of July, I made the decision to move myself and Abby to my old bedroom. This choice made Connor livid. He refused to even speak to me for a week, and when it did, it was only to tell me that he was leaving. I didn't wait for any kind of explanation, I only nodded at him. I had heard the conversation he'd had with Kanen'to:kon. I knew where he was going and why. I hoped he would be safe, but I didn't express my concern to him.

Abby's sleep schedule had gotten better, but she was still spoiled to attention. I blamed that entirely on Connor. He held her every chance he got. He would even come and get her while I was sleeping and take her to bed with him. And him not being there to placate her made my mood even more foul.

Achilles wasn't much help. He adored Abby, but I refused to let him hold her all the time while Connor was gone. He understood why, but I still think it hurt his feelings a little. He advised me to keep her on a schedule, to teach her that there were times it was okay to be played with, but times when she had to be left alone. The first day I let her cry was the hardest. I thought I was a horrible mother. I would go in and check on her every few minutes. And every time I did, she would hush. But as soon as I left the room, she would begin to fuss again.

It was during all this that Connor came back home. He didn't exactly agree with the method I was using to raise our three month old daughter. In fact, he disagreed with it. Vehemently.

"Are you certain she is not hungry?" he asked as we lay in bed.

I had only started sleeping in our room again when he left. It gave me a little reprieve from Abby and helped her get used to staying in the nursery. I was under the impression that coming back to the room made Connor more angry than leaving it. He had been distant and disagreeable since he'd gotten home.

"I just fed her," I told him.

I heard him let out a growl. It irritated me so much when he made that noise. I hated it. I rolled over and glared at him.

"Do you have something to say?" I asked rudely.

My tone and expression was returned with a scowl from Connor. He sat up and stared at me. "I do have a question," he said. "What sort of person allows their child to cry without attending them?"

"She's not even crying," I told him, gesturing to the low whimpers coming from across the hall. "She's whining."

"Does she not still require attention?"

I sat up and sighed loudly. "Connor, she's been fed, changed, played with. She's not hurt, she not sick. She. Is. Fine."

He narrowed his eyes at me and I frowned. I felt like we had done nothing but argue since Abby had been born. I was sick of the fighting. I wanted things to go back to the way they had been. I was tired of him always being mad at me. Or ignoring me.

I sighed and tried to calm down enough to reason with him. "Achilles says-"

"She is not his child to raise." Connor interrupted, spitting the words at me.

His tone did little to help stay my own temper. I wanted to lash out. But I tried to control myself.

"I'm her mother," I told him.

Connor huffed. "Bearing a child does not make you a mother."

I stared at him as I felt tears sting my eyes. Connor had never said anything so hurtful to me before. No one had. I knew I wasn't the greatest mother. But I was far from the worst. I was new at this, and so was he. He had no right to judge me. No right to say anything about my parenting.

I swallowed hard, trying with all I had not to cry in front of him. There was no way I was going to let him know how his words had affected me.

"A ceremony in the middle of the woods doesn't make you a husband," I said.

Connor only watched me for a second, his expression too vague to determine what he was feeling. Then, I got up and left the room.

I spent that night on the same couch I used to sleep on when I had first arrived here. I didn't sleep well, because I barely slept. I lay awake crying most of the night, wondering how my life had managed to get so messed up. The times I did manage to doze off were filled with strange nightmares that made me never want to sleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanien'keha:  
> awe:ri - heart


	25. Separation and Leaving - 1774

"I'm leaving."

Achilles looked up at me as I stood in the doorway of his bedroom with a slight frown on his aged features. Even more prominent than the confusion was the expression of deep disappointment I noted on his face. His dark eyes studied me for a long time as he considered my words. He knew things between Connor and me had been rocky for a while now. He didn't pretend not to notice all the arguments we had, but he offered no reassurances or advise to either of us. The only counsel he had given was for us to watch our tones in front of Abby. We did. Sometimes.

"Where will you go?" he asked.

I was quiet. It had been a week since I'd made my decision, but my destination was still unknown to me. I just knew I couldn't stay here anymore. Even with Connor gone, it was too painful. This house held too many reminders of things I would rather forget. I needed to get away.

"I'll stay with Myriam until I...find something better."

The old man sighed. "And Abigail?" he inquired forlornly. "Do you plan to take her with you?"

"Yes."

Achilles nodded. "I see," he muttered.

The way he said that hurt me. It was as if he thought I was punishing him by taking my daughter away. That wasn't my intention. I knew he loved her and I wouldn't cut him from our lives out of spite. Achilles had as much of a right to be with Abby as Connor did. He had been there when she was born, had helped to deliver her. We were family. As messed up as things were in my life right now, I still thought of him as my father. My reasons for leaving had nothing to do with Achilles. It was because of him that I had put it off this long.

"I'll bring her to visit you," I told him.

He gave me a pained smile, as if he didn't really believe me. That hurt me even more.

"Your mind is made up," Achilles stated. There wasn't much emotion in his voice, but there was a fair amount in his gaze. "I can't stop you. You're free to do as you wish."

I nodded. More because I was accepting his sentiment than agreeing with it. I hadn't expected it to be this hard to say goodbye. I felt torn and reluctant. I couldn't look at him anymore. I turned away and started to leave the room. I already had my few possessions packed, as well as all of the baby's.

I had only took a few steps when Achilles called my name. I paused, but didn't turn around.

"Connor will be gone for some time," he said. "There's no hurry."

Tears rolled down my cheeks. I knew the longer I stayed the harder it would get to ever go, but I didn't need to tell him that. I was sure he knew. I think that was part of why he was trying to get me to stay. He hoped I would reconsider, change my mind. But I couldn't.

"I can't-" I choked on the words and couldn't finish what I had stared to say. I covered my face with my hands and began to sob with my back to him.

"You know Myriam doesn't have enough room for all of you," Achilles stated.

"I don't have anywhere else to go!" I cried.

I heard the old man get up. His cane tapped on the wood floor as he approached me. I almost expected him to hug me. I wanted him to. But he didn't. He only stood behind me, gazing at the back of my head.

"Yes, you do," he told me.

I turned around to face him. I started to tell him again that I couldn't stay here, but he didn't give me time to speak. His countenance urged me to remain quiet and listen.

"The building beside the house will make a decent home for you and Abby. It will require work before it's livable, I'm sure. But I think you will be happy there, in time."

I wiped my face. "You mean the old Assassin's quarters?"

Achilles nodded. "It has fallen into disuse. I'm not sure if it will ever be required again, but – if it is – other arrangements can be made. It will serve far better as a home for you and your daughter than it did as it's intended purpose."

I stared at him. "You're giving me a house?" I asked.

Achilles nodded. "Yes. Every family deserves a home of their own. And that can be yours."

I was overwhelmed with gratitude and relief. I hadn't wanted to go to Myriam's. I hadn't wanted to go that far. And he was letting me know I didn't have to. Achilles was making an effort to keep me in his life, but still let me have my independence. I didn't know how to respond, so I hugged him. He didn't pull back or push me away for long enough that I knew he loved me, too.

It took six weeks of work to get the house ready for Abby and I to move in. I enlisted Lance's services for repairs, but it was Achilles who paid him. I promised to work off the cost, and the old man only smiled at me. When renovations, were over, Myriam, Norris and myself took what little furniture I had to the smaller house. Achilles gave me a couple chairs and the couch I had been sleeping on. He said he had no use for them. They were only in the way. The woodworker gave me a dinning room set as a housewarming gift and the other families on the homestead gave me linens and cookware. I didn't have much, but I was grateful for what I did have. I didn't doubt the emptiness could be filled over time. It was a humble beginning, but the best I could hope for.

My only wish was that things hadn't happened the way they had. I loved Connor. I still wanted to be with him. I just couldn't take all the fighting anymore. I knew he couldn't either. He had more important things to worry about. His work demanded his attention. I knew I couldn't compete with the Brotherhood, much less Abby. Those were the things in life that Connor valued the most. I tried not to be bitter about that. I told myself it was a good thing that he was so committed. He was a great man, and a wonderful father. I could respect him for that.

I stood on the cliff overlooking the harbor below. The lack of the Aquila at the small dock filled me with a strong sense of remorse. It was my hope that Connor would be home by now. But he wasn't. He was off doing whatever it was he did. Taking care of the responsibilities he had sworn to uphold when he dedicated his life to the Brotherhood. His high moral values had been one the reasons I had fallen in love with him, but they were also one of the things that tore us apart. Connor refused to discuss anything Assassin related with me. He preferred my knowledge of his duties to be vague and generalized. He did this to keep me safe. I knew that. But I still hated how he pushed me away.

I glanced at the sun as it began to set behind the trees, frowning deeply. The day was almost over. I wondered where Connor was right now. What he was doing. Most of all, I wondered if he remembered that today was our anniversary. And I wondered if that fact meant anything to him. It did to me. Though we were estranged, I still thought of myself as his wife. Even if I didn't show it all the time, I loved him. Always and forever. Despite all the fighting and tension between us, I held on to the hope that we could work things out eventually. If not for us, for Abby. She deserved a mother and a father. Something Connor nor I had in childhood. I didn't want my daughter to grow up in a broken home. I didn't want her to turn out like me, never trusting and never caring. I wanted her to have the structure I had known for the last two years. The feeling of security and happiness that comes from a real home.

I sighed, wiping the tears from my eyes, as I went back to the manor. I knew I would have a time convincing Abby that we had to go home and leave Pops alone until tomorrow. She loved that old man so very much. And he knew it. That's why he spoiled her the way he did.


	26. Home and Family - 1774

I opened my eyes to the dim light of morning. I was still getting used to the strange surroundings of the new bedroom. The long shadows gave everything an ominous and unfamiliar look. It took me a moment to adjust myself and remember that I was home. I managed to push away the urgency my dream had left me with and focused on the present. I knew Abby would be waking soon. I was surprised she hadn't already. It was getting close to time for a feeding.

Deciding to lay in bed a little longer, I pulled the cover higher and rolled onto my side, toward the door. My eyelids fluttered, wanting to go back to sleep, but knowing they really shouldn't. Then I noticed the object on the pillow next to me. I raised my head, staring at feather, wondering how it had gotten there. I picked it up, studying it. The barred, brown ombre design was uniquely well-known to me. I knew it was the feather of an eagle. I felt myself smile as I gazed at the gift Connor had left for me. There was no doubt it was from him. And no uncertainty as to it's meaning. He still loved me and he still wanted to be with me.

I got up, taking the feather with me. I was headed into Abby's room to get her with the intention of going to the manor and waking Connor, but soft giggles from downstairs got my attention before I even made it to the nursery door. I directed my steps in that direction and was not surprised to find Connor sitting on the living room floor playing with his daughter. He glanced up at me as I came through the doorway, grinning timidly as he noticed the object in my hand.

I realized I wasn't the only one who had gotten a gift upon his return. Abby was clutching a cornhusk doll in her small, pudgy hands. It was the same kind most native children owned. I guessed Connor had made it for her. That thought made me smile.

Connor stood up, receiving a protest from the six month old who no longer had his attention. He looked at Abby, then bent down and picked her up. She dropped the doll and grasped his coat instead. Connor smiled at her as she cooed happily in his arms. Then he met my gaze. He didn't have to speak when he looked in my eyes. I knew everything he wanted to say. But he said it anyhow.

“I am sorry, Faith. You were right. I have not been a good husband. I have been unsupportive and...an ass.”

I tried to hold back a smile. I had called him that so much – never really meaning it – that it was strange to hear him agree.

“Will you forgive me?”

I walked over to where he stood, watching as our daughter tugged on the braid hanging down by his ear. Connor didn't seem to notice or mind what she was doing. He was focused on me. I pulled her hand away from his hair and looked at him.

“I forgive you, Ratonhnhake:ton.”

He smiled. “Konnoronhkwa, kheksten:ha.”

I knew how to reply to that, so I did. In his language. “Konnoronhkwa, riksten:ha.”

I leaned in to kiss him and Abby yelled loudly. She began to pull on my shirt with one hand, but kept the other in a firm fist on her father's clothes. Connor glanced at her.

“I think she is hungry,” he said.

I had guessed that by the way she was nuzzling against my chest. Connor handed her to me, having to make hand release him. She whined until I sat down in the chair and began to nurse her. After that, she was content with me.

Connor sat on the couch, not really watching me feed the baby, but glancing over every so often. I thought it was funny how shy he was. It's not like he could really see anything. But he still respected my privacy.

“She missed you,” I told him.

Connor smiled. “I missed her. And you, as well.”

I grinned. “I missed you, too.”

The smile faded from his features and he stared at the hearth. “You know I did not mean what I said,” he muttered. “You are a good mother.”

“Thank you,” I told him. “You're a good father.”

Connor huffed. “It is difficult to be good at something when you are never around.”

I frowned at him. That was the first time I had heard any kind of regret in his voice when he spoke of his responsibilities. He was always proud of what he did. And he had a right to be. He was a noble man. I never held his dedication to his cause against him. I won't lie. It made things harder, but I knew what I was getting myself into when I chose to be with him. That was a decision I wouldn't change, no matter how things turned out.

“You're here now,” I said. “That's what matters.”

I saw a faint grin on his face as he looked at me. “I will be here as much as I can,” he said. He looked around the room. “If you want me to be.”

Abby began to fidget in my arms. I knew she was about done with milk and was wanting real food. I fixed my shirt and lay her on her belly on the floor. She began to scoot herself closer to Connor, babbling for his attention. I smiled as he moved himself floor and began to play with her.

“You know I want you here,” I told him. “The house needs work and I can't do it all myself.”

Connor looked at me an expression of mock insult. “Did you only marry me so that I would do chores for you?”

I grinned. “That's one of the reasons.”

“And the other?” he asked.

I shrugged. “You're cute.”

He smiled at me. That same adorable abashed grin he had always given me when I flattered him. I wondered if he would ever quit making that expression. I hoped not.

“Nia:wen, yohskats.”

I knew he had told me thank you, but I had never heard the other word before. I asked him what it meant. Connor smiled at me.

“It means beautiful.”

I felt a warmth on my face I rarely ever got. Connor had never told me I was beautiful before. He used other means to display his attraction to me. I knew he thought I was pretty by the way he touched me, kissed me and looked at me. But hearing it was an incredible compliment. Especially since I hadn't felt pretty since I'd had Abby. I still hadn't lost all the weight I had gained during my pregnancy, not to mention I had stretch marks from how big I'd gotten. I knew when Connor said that he was telling me his honest opinion. It made me feel extremely good about myself for the first time in a long time.

“I have to make breakfast,” I stated.

Connor nodded. “I will keep Awe:ri occupied while you do.”

I got up, went to him and leaned close to his ear. “Will you keep me occupied while she takes a nap later?”

Connor looked up at me. I knew from his expression that he got my meaning. He gave me a jerky nod.

“Yes.”

~

“I intended to be home yesterday,” Connor whispered.

I opened my eyes and looked at him. He was watching his fingers as they made light strokes along my side from my ribs to my hip, then back again. It being early afternoon, I knew he could see me clearly from the bright light shining through the bedroom window. Any self consciousness I felt at his gaze dissipated when I noticed the contentment on his features. He was perfectly happy with my body. Just as I was with his.

“I am sorry for the delay.”

I shrugged. “At least you remembered,” I murmured.

Connor met my eyes and smiled. “How could I forget? It was the best day of my life.” He paused, looking uncertain. “I mean, besides the day Awe:ri was born.”

“Of course,” I agreed.

Connor turned toward the table and picked up the feather I had laid there when we came to bed. He held it up, looking at it. “Do you remember what I told you about why my people wear feathers?”

I nodded. “To show that they've withstood a hardship.”

Connor nodded. “Do you understand why I gave this to you?”

I hesitated. Then grinned at him. “Because I have to put up with you?”

He gave me a goading grin, but didn't comment on my joke. “Because you birthed our daughter. I know that was very painful for you. But you showed great bravery. You act as though the suffering you went through was insignificant. That alone earns you a feather.”

I took the feather from him and placed it in my hair. “I'll keep it forever.”

Smiling, Connor kissed my forehead and relaxed beside me. I knew Abby would wake up soon and demand our attention for herself. I wouldn't mind that. I loved us being together as a family. But, for now, I was happy with it just being the two of us.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanien'keha:  
> Nia:wen - Thank you.  
> yohskats - beautiful  
> Awe:ri - Heart  
> Konnoronhkwa - I love you  
> kheksten:ha - my wife  
> riksten:ha - my husband


	27. Presents and Words - 1774

 

Abby being too young to really enjoy the holidays did not stop me from making a big deal about it being her first one. I made it a point to decorate the manor as well as our house. Achilles didn't see why he needed a tree up since it was just him, but after seeing the way Abby stared at the brightly colored bows hanging everywhere, he ceased his grumbling. It was a task to keep her away from the presents before it was time to open them. Her ability to crawl gave her the desire to explore everything. And she was never still. Trying to keep up with her was exhausting for me and her father both.

“Connor!” I yelled from the kitchen. “Will you please come and get Abby before she turns the water pale over on herself again.”

I heard Connor come into the room. He moved our the little girl away from the bucket and picked it up. “Then maybe you should not leave it sitting on the floor,” he said as he put it on the table.

“I need that space,” I told him, motioning form him to move the bucket somewhere else.

I was in the middle of my preparations for Christmas dinner. I had recipes and ingredients scattered on every surface. I hoped if I get some of it done today, I would have more time to enjoy the festivities tomorrow. I had invited Myriam, Norris and Lance to eat. They were the only ones who didn't have families of there own. I thought it would be a nice gesture. Achilles said it would be fine to hold the meal at the main house since ours was too small to entertain many guests. I think he just didn't want to be alone.

Connor sighed and lifted the pale off the table so that I could put a bowl of potatoes there.

“I will take it to the dinning room,” he said.

“No. I need it in here.”

Connor stopped midstep and made an irritated noise. He turned to me and held up the bucket. “What do you suggest I do with it, then?”

I shrugged, glancing around and seeing no good place to put it where it wouldn't be in my way or within reach of the child who liked splashing water everywhere. “Just stand there and hold it,” I told him.

Connor narrowed his eyes at me. He was on the verge of becoming really agitated, but he still maintained enough humor to make the expression look false. “I do have other things to do, Faith.”

“Oh, really?” I coaxed. “Like what?”

Connor looked away. “Like wrapping your Christmas present,” he murmured.

I frowned at him. We had agreed not to get anything for each other this year. Or I thought we had. Since we had Abby, I felt it would be best if all the attention was placed on her. The only other person I had shopped for was Achilles, and that was from all of us.

Connor noticed my look. “It is not much,” he said. “Only something I thought you might like.”

That made me feel horrible for not getting him something in return. I stopped peeling the potatoes and looked at him. “You mean like the bow you gave me last year that I still haven't gotten to use?”

His brow wrinkled. I knew I had hurt his feelings. I hadn't meant to, but I was still sore about the bow. Connor had made it for me himself, designing it to look like a smaller version of the one he used. But, when he had given it to me, I had been too far along in my pregnancy to use it. He was afraid it would be to strenuous for me and made me promise to wait until after the baby was born. After I had Abby, I stayed too busy to practice my archery. So the lovely gift sat in the corner of my bedroom, untouched and neglected.

“Nevermind,” he said.

Connor put the bucket back on the floor and picked up Abby. He started to leave the room.

“Connor,” I called. He paused an looked at me. “I didn't get you anything.”

He shrugged. “You have given me enough, Faith.”

I grinned at him as he came over and kissed me on the cheek. Abby babbled happily from his hip and pointed to the food sitting everywhere. Connor gave her a slice of raw potato and she chewed on it with her few teeth.

“She's gonna get choked on that,” I said.

Connor shook his head. “No, she will not. That is how I cut my teeth when I was little.”

I smiled at the thought. “I bet you were an adorable baby.”

Connor grinned. “Not nearly as adorable as Awe:ri is.”

I looked at our daughter and had to agree. She was beautiful. I know every mother thinks their baby is the prettiest, but I knew mine was. Her skin tone, hair and features were perfectly matched. She favored her father so much it was difficult to pinpoint any of my features on her. I knew she had my nose and the way her hair curled was reminiscent of what mine had done at her age. Other than that, she looked just like Connor. She had his eyes, his mouth, his complexion, his face shape.

I looked at my husband as he held our little girl.

“I think I'm pregnant,” I blurted out.

Connor looked at me, his face an indiscernible mask of emotion. He glanced at the little girl in his arms and back at me. I wasn't sure how he was going to respond to the possibility of a second child. It certainly hadn't been planed. I don't think either of us expected another baby so soon. But we hadn't done anything to prevent conception. This was just a consequence of our actions. One we should have known was inevitable given how close we had been since our reconciliation.

After a long time of silence, Connor nodded at me. “Okay.”

That simple, single word was enough to shock me. “You're not upset?” I asked.

Connor shook his head. “I always wanted a large family. I only thought it would happen at a later time. But fate has decided otherwise. I will be content with that.”

I watched him. We had never talked about what we wanted in life. It was just one of the few discussions we hadn't considered having. I was glad he was happy, but I didn't really share in his opinion of wanting a large family. I had never wanted kids at all. I loved my daughter more than anything, but I was in no hurry to have another baby.

I nodded, deciding that we should take more preventative measures in the future.

Abby mumbled something that only she could understand and held the potato out to her father. He shook his head at her.

“Yah.”

The little girl shook her head in return and repeated the Mohawk word that her father had said.

“Great,” I muttered. “Now she can say no in two languages.”

Abby looked at me. “No,” she repeated, shaking her head.

I tried not to smile at how plainly she had spoken. That she didn't really understand what she was saying yet made it sort of cute.

“You little munchkin,” I cooed

Connor made a face at my nickname for our daughter. “Please do not call her that,” he said. “It sounds like a foreign insult.”

I grinned at him. “Would you rather me call her ieksa:'a?” I teased.

Connor smiled at me. “Finish your cooking, aonha. I will keep Awe:ri out of your way.”

He kissed my cheek and left the room, speaking to Abby in Kanien'keha and making her laugh.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanien'keha:  
> Yah - No  
> ieksa:'a - little girl  
> *Spelling of some words vary depending on culture. I and Y have been interchanged at times.


	28. Sickness and Health - 1775

 

It was incredibly fortuitous that Prudence found out she was pregnant not long before I did. It wasn't that I was keen on sharing the woes of maternity with another woman that I was glad. It was the fact that she knew of a doctor that made me so happy. Lyle White relocated to Davenport soon after the year began. All the inhabitants were relieved by his arrival, but none more than me. It was that February that Abby got sick. Dr. White diagnosed her with scarlet fever. He spent four days overseeing her care and was almost as happy as Connor and I were when her temperature finally returned to normal. Within a week, she had made a full recovery and was back to her usual, hyper self again.

It was when I was able to stop worrying about my daughter that I began to notice something was wrong with me. I was having pain I didn't think were normal in my condition. I first attributed it to the stress of sealing with a sick child, but they got increasingly worse as time passed. By the time I thought to seek attention from Dr. White, it was too late. Too much damage had been done and I lost the baby. All Lyle could do was preform a surgery that would keep me from bleeding to death, but, at the same time, prevent me from ever having conceiving again. It was Connor who made the decision for Dr. White to save me. I was too weak to argue with him at that point. If I hadn't been, I don't think I would have let him go through with it.

I stayed in bed for weeks after that. Not for recovery, but from depression. I didn't want to eat, I didn't want to talk to anyone, I didn't even want to see Abby. All I could do was cry, eventually drifting off into a restless sleep plagued with remorse.

I begged Connor to leave me. I didn't see any sense for him to stay with me now that I could no longer give him the family he wanted. But he remained. He said he didn't care if we never had any more children. I was still his wife and he still loved me. But I didn't feel like a wife anymore. I didn't even feel like a woman.

Connor tried every way he knew of to get me to participate in life again. He tried being supportive, he brought me gifts, he even got harsh with my continued refusal to do anything. I ignored it all. I thought he would eventually give up on me. And after a few days of nothing, I thought he finally had. But then he came back, dressed in his Assassin's attire and sporting all his gear.

“Get dressed,” he told me. “We are going hunting.”

My response was to pull the covers up higher and pretend I hadn't heard him. That usually made him go away. But this time it didn't work. Connor went to the corner of the room, picked up my bow and brought it over to the bed. He held it out to me, offering it with a pained expression.

“You have not gotten to use this since I gave it to you, Faith. I know you have wanted to. This is your chance. Come hunting with me. Just like we used to.”

I looked at the bow, the one he had made just for me. It was ornate and beautiful. I remembered how happy I had been when I'd opened it, how excited. I had caressed it every day, yearning to make it sing. I had once been a good shot. But that had been so long ago. I wondered if my talent had decreased with disuse. I had spent so much time just being a homemaker that I had forgotten how to do anything else. It made me sad. It gave me a longing for more.

Sighing, I got up and put some clothes on. I'm not sure if there was a reason for it, but I subconsciously chose my old jeans and shirt to don. I had not worn them in a very long time. They hadn't fit me because of the weight I had gained. Now they were almost too big.

Connor convinced me to eat before we went out. He even cooked my favorite foods for me, sweet potatoes, squash and bread with honey. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I ate.

I followed Connor through the woods. He led me farther from the house than we had ever been before, using the trees to advance whenever possible. He urged me to do the same. It was difficult for me. I had not done anything so physically taxing in years. Not since Connor and I had gotten married. But he was patient with me. He reiterated all he had once taught me, helping me to remember the lessons.

Once we got to the rocky cliffs north of Davenport, the woods ended and Connor called a stop. We stood upon the large branch of a massive oak tree and he surveyed the land with keen eyes. It was the end of March and the thawing land was scattered with dustings of residual snow. I could see my breath in the chilled air, but I really didn't feel the cold. I was numb.

Connor hesitated, pointing toward the stone wall. I glanced in that direction, barely noticing the moving dark dot that signaled the presence of a male elk grazing near a greening bush.

“See if you can take him,” Connor told me.

I knelt on the branch, drawing my bow in the constricted space. I took aim with my arrow, using every technique I had ever learned as I sighted the buck. I released a second earlier than I had intended, unable to hold the string with my weak arms. I stood up, muttering a curse as the animal ran off in the direction of the forest. I looked at Connor. He made no reaction. After a moment, he descended the tree, with me in tow. When we were back on solid ground, Connor pulled out his spare dagger and handed it to me.

“What's this for?” I asked him.

“To end it,” he replied.

I looked at him with confusion, unsure what he was talking about.

“Your arrow did not miss,” he said. “It only wounded him. We must track him and finish it.”

I wasn't sure how he had managed to tell that my shot had hit the elk, but I took his word for it. We walked toward where the beast had retreated and I could see the red drops of blood tinting the snow every few feet. Connor had me take point. He wanted to know if my skill was as good as it had once been. I had no trouble following the trail until we got deeper into the forest. The dense woods cast shadows that made sight difficult and the tracks were obscure on the muddy floor. I looked to Connor for help. He only waited patiently for me to figure it out on my own. I chose a direction that had little to do with insight and relied only on a guess. It stunned me that I was correct. We came upon the buck while he was standing near the creek. My arrow was protruding from his left hindquarters, just above his leg. He was limping lethargically as he whined quietly.

Connor and I crouched among the underbrush some yards away. I took aim again, holding my breath and trying to steady myself as I waited for the elk to raise his head. When he did, I released. The second arrow buried itself deep into his eye, angering him. He cried out, releasing a horrible, loud sound, and spun toward where Connor and I were standing. The buck lowered his antlers and charged at me. I froze, not knowing what to do. I felt Connor push me out of the way and fall hard on the ground. I looked up at my husband just in time to see him meet the advancing elk. He held the beast's horns in his right hand and released his blade with his left. With one swift motion, he drove the knife into the animal's neck. The buck whimpered and fell on it's side, dead.

Connor relaxed, flicking his wrist. Droplets of blood arched from the weapon, spraying on the scenery. He let the knife receded back into it hidden holster and looked down at me. I couldn't do anything but stare at him in awe as he knelt next to me, offering his hand to help me to my feet. I had never seen anyone move so quickly in my life. I had always known Connor was a remarkable man, but this was a side of him that I had never seen before. His warrior side. It made me realized how productive all the training he did was, why he took it so seriously. It made me realize how incredibly good he was at what he did. He was an Assassin. I understood that now. And I understood what that meant.

Connor pulled me into a standing position with a soft, concerned expression on his features that was a stark contrast to the violence I had just witnessed. “Are you alright?”

I nodded dumbly, still watching him with fascination. It hit me that he had done what he did for me. To protect me. Because he loved me. It was an astonishing and humbling feeling. I was incredibly grateful to him, but couldn't express it in words. I was speechless.

Connor looked me over, satisfied that I was unharmed and turned back to the buck. “We should-”

I didn't let him finish. I threw my arms around his shoulders and kissed him. Our mouths met hard enough that I felt my lower lip split on my tooth. Connor was shocked, standing still and not reacting as I delved my tongue between his lips in a way I hadn't for a long time. After a heartbeat, he recovered and returned the kiss. His embrace was strong, owning. He pulled me close to him, causing me to let out a quiet yelp at his forcefulness.

My pleasant surprise emboldened Connor. His hands lowered, caressing my bottom as his fingers went to my inner thighs, pulling my legs apart. He lifted me, taking steps until I felt the rough bark of a tree on my back through the fabric of my shirt. I paused in the kiss to tell him that a I love him. He returned the sentiment, speaking a long string of words in Kanien'keha that I didn't understand. Then he was kissing me again, his palms stroking my body as his weight held me to the tree trunk. I tangled my fingers in his hair, tugging until he let out a grunt. Connor stopped. His hand stilling on the fastening of my pants. He met my eyes. I felt his thumb rub the tender spot of my healing scar.

“You need time to heal,” he whispered.

I nodded. I pulled him close, hugging him tightly.

“I am sorry,” he murmured in my ear.

I felt tears sting my eyes. “I don't blame you,” I said.

Connor looked at me. There was relief in his gaze. A deep thankfulness I hadn't expected. He had thought I resented him for the choice he made. This was the first time I had let him know that I didn't. I suppose I had been blaming him. Causing him to feel guilt by my actions. Pushing him away. But it wasn't because of his decision, it was because of my loss. I missed my child. I had never met it, but I missed it. I loved it. I could tell by the look in Connor's eye that he understood. He was grieving, too. In his own way.

He lowered me easily to my feet and backed away, holding my hand in a very sweet way.

“Where's Abby?” I asked him.

“She is with Achilles.”

“I want to see her.”

Connor nodded. He began to lead me away. We had only gone a few steps when I remembered the elk laying on the ground behind us. I asked Connor what we were going to do with him.

“The wolves can him,” he answered. “I am taking my wife to see our daughter.”

That was the first and only time I have ever known my husband to abandon a kill. I suppose he felt he had a good reason.

 

 


	29. Vacation and Revelation - 1775

 

Connor's idea of taking us to Kanatahseton for the summer was one I supported, but couldn't make myself get excited about. I kept my misgivings to myself for his sake. I knew he wanted his daughter to be a part of his heritage. That was a sentiment I could stand behind. It was only for personal reasons that I was loath to return to the village. I didn't feel accepted there. None of the inhabitants expressed their distrust of me verbally, but their stares spoke louder than words ever could. I was an outsider, different, strange. Being the wife of one of their own earned me no privileges. I was not allowed to participate in any of the religious customs or rituals that were held. I could watch, but not be included. I tried to be understanding, but it was insulting to be cast out simply because my skin was a different color. The natives knowing this sort of oppression made it even harder for me to accept.

Connor stayed by my side the entire time, telling me what he could of his culture. I tried to show interest. For him and for Abby. But it was feigned. He knew that as much as I did. I think it offended him. But he remained quiet.

My limited Kanien'keha vocabulary didn't help the situation any. Connor had taught me a few words, but the rules were very difficult to understand. I just couldn't comprehend how phrases could be grouped together to make a single word. Mohawk was completely different than any other language I had ever tried to learn. I stayed quiet most of the time, afraid my ignorance would be mistaken for disrespect. I said the few greetings, thanks and farewells I knew as genuinely as I could, but they were accepted with distension by Oia:ner. Being the only blood family that Connor had left made the clan mother's disapproval of me all the more hurtful. She loved Abby, though, and welcomed her with open arms. But she usually chose to not even acknowledge my presence.

The only one in the village who paid me any attention was Kanen'to:kon. He would talk to me if Connor was busy showing Abby the sights and teaching her the ways of the Kanien'keha:ka. It was only ever polite, idle conversations about nothing, but they meant a lot to me.

“What was he like as a kid?” I asked Kanen'to:kon.

“Ratonhnhake:ton?” He always called Connor by his true name. Everyone here did. That was one more thing that made me feel like I didn't belong. “He was...rebellious. Always getting into trouble. Very stubborn. Much like his mother was.”

“Kaniehti:io?” I spoke carefully, receiving a nod.

“They share many of the same ideals about the world, judging by the storied I have heard from the elders.”

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Connor didn't talk about his mother much. The memories were too painful for him. He had related to me more details about the woman who'd raised him than he ever had to anyone else. He had even once told me that I reminded him of her. I took that as a compliment, knowing how much he loved her.

I looked at Kanen'to:kon. I knew he and Connor had been very close growing up. Best friends. They had shared a lot together.

“So,” I murmured thoughtfully, “tell me about the kind of trouble my husband used to get into.”

Kanen'to:kon met my eyes, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I am sure there are details he would not be happy for you to know.”

I grinned. “I'm counting on it.”

I listened to everything Kanen'to:kon told me, memorizing the parts I knew would embarrass Connor the most. I put them in reserve, with plans to recall them at a later date – with my husband.

 

-

 

Sleeping in Kanatahseton was one of the most difficult tasks of the entire trip. The limited space made rest for me nearly nonexistent. It wasn't just the uncomfortable mats, but the constant tossing and turning of our fifteen month old daughter that disturbed me so much. Abby insisted on sleeping between Connor and me, which often resulted in her feet buried painfully in my side. I had hoped her giving me those sorts of aches had ended when she was born. But that was not the case. I deduced that her toes were even more discomforting from the outside of my body than they had been from the inside.

It was on one such night of restlessness that I had my relationship altering conversation with Oia:ner, as limited as it was. There was really very little talking. Mostly it was gestures and revelations.

That was also the night I spoke to the spirit – a far more unpleasant conversation than the one I had with the clan mother.

Being the middle of summer made it incredibly hot in the longhouse. The fires used for light after the sun had set intensified this immensely. I gave no attention to the visibility of the mark on the back of my neck when I put my hair up to keep it from sicking to me. But Oia:ner noticed it as I sat in the common area looking around while she sewed beads on a buckskin dress with practiced skill.

“Naho:ten ke:ton?” she questioned, tapping her finger on the tattoo.

“I don't-” I paused, knowing she didn't understand English. I thought of what to say. It was a phrase that I used a lot in Kanatahseton. “Um, iah tewake'nikonhraien:ta's.”

The old woman nodded, speaking words I didn't understand. I didn't bother telling her that their meaning was lost on me. I'm sure she knew. She was talking to herself, not to me. After she finished, Oia:ner stood up, placing the dress on the ground next to her. She went to her cubicle, and returned a moment later carrying a small box. She held her hand out to me in invitation.

“Kahnyon.”

 

I got up and followed her outside. The night air was still and warm. Stars shone overhead clearly against the black backdrop of the sky. Oia:ner led me to the water's edge and lowered herself to the ground. I sat in front of her, wondering why she had brought me here. She held the box out to me. I took it and opened it. I stared at the object inside with fascination. It looked like a crystal ball. It was clear, about the size of a grapefruit and had strange, familiar markings on it.

I gave the clan mother a questioning glance. She motioned for me to take the orb. I held it, realizing it was not as heavy or cold as I expected it to be. It was weightless and radiated a warmth that was uncommon for an inanimate object. I opened my mouth to speak, to ask Oia:ner what to do next. That was when the world around me changed. It became an ethereal setting of darkness. I looked around, puzzled by what had happened. That was when the spirit materialized in front of me. She bore the omnipresence of a goddess, but not the divinity. She was something else. Something powerful, but restrained. Caged, like a wild animal. She stared at me with an irritated countenance, as thought I were not welcomed.

“Why have you come to this place?”

Her voice seemed to come from all around me, not only from her lips. It reminded me of a parlor trick a magician would use to display a greater sense of might than they truly possesed. I got the feeling she was trying to intimidate me, to make me feel insignificant and small. Her self-righteousness annoyed me. I really didn't see her as all that important.

“I didn't ask to be here,” I told her.

I didn't try to make my words polite. I let my tone convey my disdain for her and the way she made me feel. That seemed to amuse her. A sly smile played at her lips as she watched me. Her gaze penetrated my mind. I knew she could tell what I was thinking.

“No,” she agreed. “Yet, here you are. Trapped in a purposeless existence for reasons beyond your comprehension.”

Her words angered me even more than her tone, but also gave me the notion that she knew how I had come to be where I was. I wanted to ask, but I knew she wouldn't tell me.

“I know more than you think,” I retorted.

The spirit let out a humorless chuckle. “Do you, child?” She stared at me with a calculating coldness. Again, I got the feeling she could tell what I was thinking. “The key,” she spoke, as if to confirm my thought, “will be found. Your intervention has done nothing to deter him.”

I didn't know who she was talking about – what she was talking about. But I didn't let her know that. I tried to maintain an air of importance that I no longer felt as memories of the life I had forgotten filled my head. I struggled to push them away, to remember who I was. I was the wife of Connor. The mother of Abby. That was my life now. Not the illusions she was showing me of an unimportant girl who served coffee for minimum wage.

I glared at her as she grinned at me.

“Go,” she said. “Enjoy what little time you have left here. But do so knowing you have failed.”

With a wave of her hand, the strange place vanished and I found myself lying on the shore, staring up at the stars, as the clan mother hovered over me. The orb was put up, back in the box. I had no desire to see it again.

I sat up, confused with what had happened. Oia:ner stood up, watching me with a kindness I wasn't used to getting from her. She held out her hand to me.

“Ha' ki' o:nen tsitiahten:ti,” she spoke.

I reached up, taking her offered hand, and got to my feet. We walked back to the longhouse together in silence. I went back to bed, staring at my family while they slept peacefully. I had no desire to ever leave them. I wanted to remain here forever, no mater how impossible it seemed. I would fight to stay, to keep what was important to me.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanien'keha:ka:  
> Naho:ten ke:ton? - What does that mean?  
> iah tewake'nikonhraien:ta's. - I don't understand.  
> Kahnyon - Come here.  
> Ha' ki' o:nen tsitiahten:ti - Let's go home now


	30. Deception and Misfortune - 1775

 

“Faith?”

I snapped back to reality, focusing on Connor as he watched me with an expression of mild concern. I realized that the deer in the frying pan I was standing over was beginning sizzle loudly. I quickly turned it, relieved that it wasn't burned from lack of attention. I had been so lost in thought I had forgotten that I was in the middle of cooking supper.

I felt Connor put his hand on my shoulder and glanced at him. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said with a nod. “I'm just...”

Without knowing quite what to say, I let the sentenced fade into silence. I had been plagued with distracting visions since our trip to Kanatahseton – since my visit with the spirit. I hadn't told Connor about that incident. It was something I felt like he didn't need to know. Something I would rather forget.

But, try as I might, I couldn't get the strange woman's words out of my head. They repeated over and over, like a scratched CD in a cheap player. Her comment about what little time I had left scared me beyond reason. I had tried to rationalize her words. I made the excuse that, to a being like her, time was a different concept. A lifetime was only a drop in the bucket compared to a century. Her version of little could very well be a lot to a mortal like me. I could have decades left to live and she would see it as nothing more than the lifespan of an ant, inconsequential and unmemorable. I tried to let that comfort me, to not worry about the self-righteousness ramblings of someone who didn't mater in the grand scheme of things. But it was difficult.

I looked at my husband, forcing a smile for his sake. He grinned at me in return. I could tell it was fake. That was the norm these days. We both pretended we weren't bothered by the secrets we kept from the other.

I went back to cooking as Connor went into the living room and began to play with Abby. I could hear her giggling as he tickled her. It was the most wonderful sound I had ever heard.

 

“How long are you gonna be home this time?” I asked Connor while we were eating.

He didn't look at me, but concentrated instead on the little girl seated on his lap. I hoped he wouldn't get irritated at the way I had phrased the question. The addition of the last two words was a reminder of how much he'd been gone this fall. It was never for very long. Sometime only a few days, sometimes a few weeks. But he was away more than he was home. I understood why. The Templars were making plans to murder Commander Washington. That was a major deal to Connor, as well as the Patriot army. Connor spent most of his time in Boston or New York, gathering what intel he could and meeting with associates. He didn't tell me anything he learned – if he learned anything at all. But I was certain his efforts had been fruitless thus far. He stayed far too distracted for me to believe the opposite.

Connor finally looked at me as Abby grabbed a carrot from his plate and began to eat it. He didn't appear bothered by my inquiry, only thoughtful. “I do not know.”

I nodded, expecting that answer. It was the same one he always gave me when I asked when or for how long he was leaving.

“Are you going hunting tomorrow?”

Connor shrugged. It wasn't that he needed to hunt. We had plenty of food. It was for practice that he went on excursions. He usually let me tag along, which made me happy. I loved going into the woods with him. Not because it was the only time we had alone together, but because I got to watch him show off his prowess. Every since the incident with the elk, I had been infatuated with my husband. I studied him, memorizing his proficiencies and reveling in his skill. The way he moved with such ease and grace awed me. I longed to possess the abilities he had.

Sometimes, when Connor was gone, I would go out alone and attempt to preform the feats I had seen him carry out. It had taken me months to be able to propel myself through the trees without falling. But I had finally managed to be able to do so nine times out of ten. I was nowhere near as good as Connor was – I doubted I ever would be – but I was on my way to being a capable free runner.

I couldn't explain exactly why I wanted to be able to move like an Assassin, I just did. Every since I'd lost the baby, I had been feeling a desire for more. I wanted to be be more. To do more. I was no longer content with just being a housewife. I wanted my existence to have meaning. I wanted to accomplish something.

I didn't try to explain any of this to Connor. I knew he wouldn't understand. He was adamant about me distancing myself from the Order. He didn't want me to know any more than I already did. He didn't want me to be involved in that part of his life. I told him I understood, but I really didn't. I felt like he was oppressing me, giving me a place. He had an ideal of what a wife's duties consisted of and knowing about the war between two secret factions was not my responsibility. Connor never verbalized this. It was only a sense I got when I questioned him on his work. I wasn't part of his Brotherhood. There were things he just couldn't tell me. I guess that's why I stayed quiet about my desires. Turnabout was fair play. If he could have secrets, I could, too. It was a vindictive way to look at it. But I told myself that was just who I was. I really had no clue who I was. Not anymore.

Abby picked up a piece of deer from Connor's plate and looked at me. “Yawekon.”

I chuckled at her. It was amazing how quickly she was picking up on Kanien'keha phrases and their meaning. She could speak English just as easily. Sometimes she said things I didn't understand and Connor had to translate for me. If he wasn't home, I would remind her to speak English for me. Sometimes I had to tell her that in Mohawk before she would revert to speaking the language I most fluent in.

“I don't want it, sweetie,” I told her. “You eat it.”

Abby stared at me, still offering the piece of meat to me. “Raeks.”

Connor got her attention and shook his head at her. “Ista does not like meat, Awe:ri.”

Abby looked at her father and spoke something in a mass of gabbled Kanien'keha that I didn't catch. Connor smiled at her.

“Tiohrhen:sa sata:ti,” he told her.

“Deer good, Father,” she mumbled.

It stunned me that Abby didn't say mama or dada like most toddlers did. She never had. She referred to Connor and me as Father and Mother in either English or Mohawk. Her proper way of speaking reminded me so very much of Connor. She was a miniature female version of him in every way. I couldn't help but laugh at her. And the irritated glance she gave me when I did only deepened the effectiveness of my thinking. That was the same expression Connor often gave me when he was unsure about why I was acting the way I was.

“I love you, munchkin,” I told her.

Abby smiled happily at me as Connor made a face. He hated it when I called her that. She loved it, though.

<\------------>

It was nearing winter when Achilles approached me about my training. Connor was off on one of his intelligence gathering missions again. He'd been gone for three days already. I had no clue when to expect him home. As per usual, I had began practicing the art of parkour as soon as he left. I told Achilles I was going hunting with Myriam when I dropped Abby off with him. I suspected he knew I was lying, but not to what end.

It was partly my own clumsiness that led to his knowledge of what I was doing. It rained a lot that fall. Tree branches are notoriously slick when covered with a thin layer of cold rain. I should have expected to fall. I gave no thought about how slippery the branch I grabbed onto was until my hold gave way. I landed hard on my right foot, my ankle twisting painfully under my weight. I cursed loudly as I sat on the wet ground, gritting my teeth with anger and frustration.

When I could think strait again, I checked my injury. I was fairly positive it wasn't broken, but it was already swollen and extremely sore. I stood up and tested how much pressure my foot could stand. It wasn't much. I began to limp back home. It took me forever to get to the back door of the manor. I spent all that time trying to think of a good excuse for my injury. I shouldn't have even bothered with a lie. The look on Achilles' face when I said I tripped on loose stone was blatant disbelief. He stared at me in silence for so long I couldn't help but feel guilty and look away.

“Does Connor know what you've been doing?” he asked me.

I shook my head, not even attempting to deny.

“I didn't think so,” Achilles stated.

The old man moved to the chair next to me and began to help wrap my ankle tightly with string of cloth. I watched Abby scribble on a spare piece of parchment that Achilles had given her while he tended my wound. When he was finished, he sat back and stared at me, shaking his head slowly.

“If you insist on this course of action, it would be wise to have someone train you.”

I sighed and looked at him. “You know Connor would never agree to that.”

Achilles frowned. “I wasn't talking about Connor,” he said. “Did you forget it was I who trained him?”

I gazed at the old man with awe as I realized he was offering to teach me. A slow smile of gratitude formed on my face.

“Don't get too excited just yet,” Achilles cautioned me. “I'm only going to give you enough pointers to keep you from killing yourself. I'll train you properly if you ever decide to tell your husband the truth.”

Despite the scolding note in his voice at my deception, I nodded.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanien'keha:  
> Yawekon - tastes good  
> Raeks - eat  
> Tiohrhen:sa sata:ti - Speak in English


	31. Decisions and Dignity - 1776

I took my position, readying my bow. Below me, in the distance, the crowd gathered around the gallows, attracted to the prospect of death with morbid fascination. I fought to control the anger that built inside me as Charles Lee ascended the platform. The Templar paid no mind to the Assassin who was about to be hanged. His attention was on the crowd. He looked at them as though he were a king, and they his subjects. Beneath the false sense of remorse, I noted the pleasure in the mans features as he addressed the people of New York with a commanding voice. Even from my distance, I could hear him speaking. Hear the lies he told with a sincerity that made me nauseous. His tone was loud, filled with pride and mock sympathy.

“Brothers. Sisters. Fellow patriots. Several days ago we learned of a scheme so vile, so dastardly, that even repeating it now disturbs my being. The man before you plotted to murder our much beloved General.”

I scowled at the words. The bastard was lying. Blatantly. I had expected some sort of announcement from the Templars, but not this. It angered me that they were placing blame on my husband for something they were attempting. Connor was trying to help Washington, trying to save his life. And his efforts were being repaid with condemnation.

I glanced at Connor. He stood proudly, unaffected by the lies that spilled from his enemy's lips. It stunned me that he would give his life with such honor for his cause. I wondered if he had any regrets about his decision. If he considered me or his daughter. It would be selfish of him not to. And Connor wasn't a selfish man. I suppose he thought we would be fine without him. A sentiment I didn't share.

I tightened my grip on my bow, notching the arrow into place. I narrowed my eyes at Lee. I considered how easy it would be to fire now. How much trouble would be adverted, how many lives saved, with just one death? It would be so easy. So very simple. I could kill him by releasing my grip. I suppose it could be considered an accident. I could make the excuse that I was nervous and my hand slipped. The result would be fortunate, wouldn't it? Lee would be dead. One of the Templars that my husband hunted and needed to kill would be dead by my hand. That would make me a murderer.

No. That would make me an Assassin.

I closed my eye, pushing such thoughts from my mind. I wasn't an Assassin. I was the wife of one. And my main concern right now was my husband, not his duties. I didn't care if Lee lived or died. I only wanted Connor safe. Alive. With me.

I took a breath, exhaling slowly as I remembered the lecture Achilles had given me. The old man had resented my determination to take part in this rescue attempt. But, in the end, he had relented. He couldn't deny that I was the best archer, that having me take this position was logical. But he had cautioned me on remaining calm. He had warned me not to let my personal feelings interfere with the mission. His words played in my head.

“This task is not one that can be accomplished by will alone. Rely on your skill and reason. Stay detached. Only after you succeed can you give in to emotion.”

After I succeed. That was what he had said. And I would succeed. I knew that.

I waited, relaxing as much as I could. A sack was placed over Connor's head and the noose encircled his neck. I tried not to see it as a personal situation, but as a perspective problem that needed solving. I knew what I had to do. I had to wait until the rope was taunt, until the man's weight would snap the fraying that my arrow would cause. That was the solution. The answer to the question. When that moment occurred, I made my move. I release my arrow, quickly readying another in case it would be needed. It wasn't. Connor's body fell, disappearing through the trap door on the scaffold.

I sighed in relief as my job was completed. I was about to leave the hiding spot when I noticed a commotion below. It took me only a second to deduce what was happening. Thomas Hickey was running toward Washington, a musket in hand. It was a desperate action. Forfeiting all pretense of innocence in favor of public assassination. It gladdened me that our plan had made the Templars resort to such drastic means. But I couldn't let them win. I took aim and fired an arrow into Hickey's shoulder. It didn't stop his advance, but it slowed him enough that Connor – who was in pursuit with his tomahawk raised – could catch up. I didn't stay to watch how it ended. I made my way out of the building and toward the street where my very alive husband was.

I reached Connor as he was speaking to Israel Putnam. The glanced at me as I walked within the circle of patriot soldiers, ignoring all of them.

“I'll be damned. You actually managed to pull it off.”

I noticed the slight impressed look on his face. I had went to Putnam for assistance when I learned he was in New York, but he had failed to provide any. He said he couldn't help save Connor. That the hanging was the result of political hogwash by the higher ups. I had accepted that, and stated that I didn't really need him anyhow. He had doubted me.

“Of course I did,” I returned.

I looked back at Connor. He met my eyes, displaying a second's disapproval at my involvement before turning to the general. I had not expected a happy reception, but his ignorance stung.

“Where is Washington?” Connor asked. “I need to speak with him.”

“Bundled off as soon as your execution went sideways,” Putnam answered. “He's likely on his way back to Philadelphia by now.”

Connor turned, intending to leave. “Then so am I.”

“Something wrong?” Putnam called.

Connor paused, turning toward the general. “He is still in danger. Hickey did not act alone.”

He turned again, walking toward where Achilles, Stephan and Clipper were waiting with his gear. I followed. Not saying anything, but watching him intently. I was elated that he was safe, but irritated that he had not even spoken a word to me. I hadn't expected him to thank me for my part in his rescue, but I wanted him to acknowledge that I was here. Yet he continued to walk, avoiding my stares.

The French man handed Connor his clothes, greeting him with respect.

“Thank you,” Connor told him.

That he spoke to Stephan and not me grated my nerves. I was his wife. I deserved at least a short greeting. Even if it was forced and not polite, I wanted Connor speak to me. To at least look at me.

“Shall we accompany you to Philadelphia?” Stephan asked.

“No,” Connor told him. “I will go alone.”

“Like hell you will,” I stated. I had grown tired of being quiet, of being ignored. I really paid no mind to the presence of all the soldiers and civilians who were milling about as I cursed at my husband.

Connor turned to me. It was the first time during all this that I had his attention. He gazed at me with anything but gratitude. His eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed. He looked very unhappy with me.

“Go home, Faith,” he said, not kindly. “Our daughter needs you.”

My anger grew at the demanding tone he had taken with me. Connor had never spoken to me like that before. It was as though I had a place, and my place was not here. I didn't like being told what to do. I never had. Requests I could respect, but orders gave me a refusal to obey.

“She needs you, too,” I retorted. “But that's never stopped you from leaving, has it?”

Connor looked down at me, his eyes flickered with rage. Our unity was a compromise. I had accepted what he did when I married him and knew that doing it meant he would be forced to leave at a moment's notice and remain gone for unknown intervals of time. I knew that. I had agreed to it. But, now, here I was, throwing his absences in his face because I was mad at him. It wasn't the correct course of action, not what a wife should do. But I felt he wasn't upholding his end of our bargain; to respect me and keep me by his side, no matter the circumstances.

I flinched when Connor raised his hand, certain that he was going to strike me. I'm not sure why I thought that. Connor had never once been violent with me. I trusted that he never would be. I think I feared he would smack me because I felt I deserved it. I had used his duties and our child to hurt him. But Connor only pushed some wet hair out of his face and glowered at me.

“Do as you please,” he stated icily.

I hung back for a second after he walked away, exchanging a glance with Achilles. The old man watched me and I could see the disappointment in his eyes. Connor had not been the only one my outburst had shamed. Achilles was responsible for me. At least, he felt he was. My actions reflected on him. Much the way Abby's did on me.

I glanced down, watching my feet as I walked. Trying more than anything to avoid my father's critical gaze as I passed him. I heard his cane tap as he fell into pace next to me.

“I caution you to refrain from making such scenes in the future,” he spoke gently. “Remember that all forms of combat must be handled with dignity.”

I nodded, still not meeting his eyes. I really wasn't sure if Achilles was giving me advice on keeping my emotions in check of the sake of missions, or to help with my marriage. Either way, it was good advice. I knew I owed Connor an apology. And he owed me one as well.

 

 


	32. Life and Memories - 1776

Connor and I didn't speak the entire time we were in Philadelphia. I could tell he was far too angry to listen to anything I had to say, so I left him alone. I gave him his space. I hoped his mood would improved when we got home, but it didn't. He still gave me the silent treatment after I picked Abby up from Myriam's. I didn't even try to talk to him while he spend time with his daughter. I wasn't going to risk upsetting her just to say I was sorry. A sentiment I knew he wouldn't respond kindly to in his current mood.

After all that, I expected Connor to go back to the main house. At least, for the night. But he surprised me by coming to in the room as I was changing into my bed clothes. He waited for me to finish then stood, watching me expectantly, as though he felt I had something to say to him. I suppose I did have something to say to him, and now was the best time to say it.

“I'm sorry.”

Connor stared at me. “Is that all you have to say?”

“It's all I'm _going_ to say,” I told him.

He nodded as though he expected me to say that. “Then you can listen while I speak.”

I knew he was going to lecture me. I really didn't want to hear him out. What I wanted was for this to be done already. I didn't want to be told how I _should_ have acted, how I _should_ have behaved. I had a counter argument prepared for just such an speech. I was only dreading using it because I felt it would end our relationship.

Connor took a step toward me as I crossed my arms and waited for him to begin. “I understand you were concerned with my safety, Faith. But that was no reason to abandon our daughter and risk exposure by traveling to New York. Abigail deserves to have at least one of her parents with her at all times, and that cannot be me. Not right now. You understand this. You know why I serve the Brotherhood and you know my loyalty to them is unwavering.”

I huffed. Connor pretended to ignore it.

“I have tried to remain dedicated to you, as well. To us. But you make it very difficult when you disrespect me in front of men who respect me. I will not be cussed by a woman who has made a promise to support me for doing what I feel is right. Never again. Not in public and not in private. Nor will I validate my responsibilities to you every time I am forced to leave. Being gone is hard enough without your scorn.”

I looked at him. Connor didn't really look angry. He look hurt, irritated. But not furious. And his words were far from what I had thought they would be. He was talking normally to me, having a conversation. One sided as it was, it was still only a conversation. It wasn't an argument, yet. I knew it could become one easily. But that mostly depended on me. On how I reacted to being spoken to by him like this. By being reminded of what I had agreed to when we were wed.

“Is there anything you would like to say?” Connor asked me.

I nodded at him and he waited for me to consider how I would phrase my thoughts. It took longer than I would have liked. But what I said really wasn't worth all the trouble. It was simple.

“Don't ignore me.”

Connor looked away. “Seeing you in New York,” he said, “scared me.”

He said that as though it was a miraculous revelation. I wasn't sure why. Fear was a natural response in many situations. That was how I felt, anyway. That was the logical way to look at it. Fear was rational. I was scared much of the time. I thought Connor was, too.

“I have never been that afraid of anything in my life,” he said. “Of failing. Of losing. I did not know how to respond. That is why I ignored you.”

“That's crazy,” I told him.

“It is not crazy,” Connor said. “I may have reacted poorly in the situation, but my fear was genuine and understandable. Had things not went as planned...” He glanced away. “I do not want you to watch me die, Faith. And I cannot watch-”

I understood what he meant then. It hit me how powerful fear can be. It can be paralyzing. It can control you if you let it. I was used to dealing with fear. I had been doing it all my life. Connor was different. He never felt fear. Not true fear. He had spent years learning how to suppress his emotions for missions, just as Achilles had advised me to do in New York. The old man had taught Connor that technique and he had perfected it. It made me realize why Connor was so compartmentalized as he was. He had to be, with what he did. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to be an Assassin. He wouldn't be able to take the life of another human without it destroying his resolve.

The only thing I could think of to do when he announced that he was afraid of losing me was hug him. So I did. Not just because I loved him and wanted to reassure him that we were both still alive and safe. I also hugged him because I was happy we had been able to avoid letting this become a huge argument. We had spoken our feelings rationally, like adults. It gave me hope for our future together. Hope that we could understand one another with a limited amount of disagreements.

“I love you,” I said.

“I love you, too,” Connor replied. He pulled away and looked at me. “But there is something else I would like to speak to you about.”

“What?” I asked, not really concerned.

“Do you truly wish to become an Assassin?”

I wondered if he was asking out of curiosity or if Achilles had told him that he had been training me. I couldn't tell any reason by his eyes. They were indistinct.

“Would it bother you if I did?” I asked him.

Connor thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yes.”

His honestly shocked me. I guess it really shouldn't have. He was always very truthful. But it gave me pause in answering. I didn't want to displease him, but I wanted to be able to decided my own path.

“I don't know,” I said honestly.

He didn't respond for a second. It made me wonder if I had upset him again. I hadn't wanted to.

“I understand,” he said. “Then, do you plan to continue training until you make your decision?”

I stared at him. So the old man had tattled. It agitated me that he had went behind my back and told even though he knew I didn't want Connor to know. But it was wrong of me to try to deceive my husband. I guess I deserved to be told on.

“That depends,” I told him. “Are you going to train me?”

Connor sighed in resignation. “If you would like for me to.”

I knew it was something he didn't really want to do, but something he was willing to do. For me. He was being supportive and understanding. He was being a good husband. And I could thank him by being a good wife.

“It'll be kinda fun, though, won't it? Just the two of us. Practicing like we used to do.”

Connor's mouth twitched into a small grin. “I suppose so.”

I raised up and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “I am happy with you,” I told him. “I just...since I lost the baby...I-I need something.”

“I know,” Connor said. “And I will do what I can to fill the void you were left with. But I sincerely hope you do not choose this life, Faith. It is not easy.”

I nodded. I really doubted that I wanted to be an Assassin. Not after talking to him and expressing how I felt. I know he had never intentionally done anything to give me the feeling of oppression. It had mostly been me doing it myself. I hoped more than anything that the understanding we had reached would last.

It was about a month into training that I came to the revelation that I wasn't dedicated enough to the Order to risk my life for their cause. My main reason for deciding this was Abby. It was just a routine day of lessons with Connor, but something he said when we were taking a break struck me. We were talking about our daughter, about how much she had grown and how stubborn she could be. I was recalling the day she had taken her first steps.

“It was so funny,” I told Connor. “She just walked four steps and fell down. Flat on her butt. But she didn't start crying. She got mad. Like it was the floor's fault she lost her balance.”

I looked at my husband, laughing at he memory. I noticed he was watching me with a pained expression on his face. I stopped giggling and stared at him.

“I was not home,” he said quietly.

It hit me then just how much of Abby's life Connor had missed out on for the Brotherhood. He did far more than put his life on the line when he left, he lost chances. Chances to make memories that could never occur again. He missed out on once in a lifetime opportunities that could never be replaced. It made me very sad for him.

I took Connor's hand and stood up.

“Let's go home,” I said.

And we went home. We spent the rest of the day with our daughter. Just enjoying her company. Connor and I still hunted occasionally after that. But we mostly just did nothing when he was home. I knew it wasn't nothing to him. To Connor, it was the only thing worth doing. Being a family and living a simple life.

 


	33. Jealousy and Habits - 1777

Achilles really didn't come to our house much. Any time we visited with the old man, it was usually at the manor. The main house being a second home to us all made the visits natural and comfortable. But Achilles did come by on occasion, mostly to tell Connor about any news he had heard from their fellow comrades. The old mentor corresponded with all members of the Brotherhood regularly. And he made it a point to have Connor do the same. Considering Connor would someday take over as leader of the Colonial branch of Assassins, I accepted that without giving it much thought. I sometimes inquired about the other members and my husband would give me nonspecific details about who they were and how they helped. That was as far as it ever went.

The old man didn't only come by to speak to his apprentice. He would also come by to see his granddaughter. Achilles couldn't go more than a day without spending time with Abby. And the little girl reciprocated this adamantly. She would go to the front door every so often, open it and tell me bye, that she was going to see Pops. I thought it was adorable, but never let her go alone. She had a habit of becoming distracted with everything. The simplest things seemed to fascinate her. I worried she would wander off on the short trip from our front door to the one of Achilles' house.

The party I threw for Abby's third birthday marked the first get together at my own home. I usually held all celebrations at the manor due to space. But Abby wanted this party to be at home. Mostly so she could show off the new bed that I had gotten her. It really wasn't that fancy. Just a simple toddler bed. It's lack of rails is what made Abby so very excited about it. It required less effort on her part to sneak out of her bed in the middle of the night and crawl into ours. She did that quite often. And Connor never turned her away.

I had thought a new bed would make her want to be in her own room more, but it hadn't. She still crept silently to the master bedroom and chose a spot between her parents to conduct her sleeping ritual of depriving me of rest. I honestly didn't mind it most times. Especially when Connor was gone. It was nice to have a reminder of my husband when I couldn't be with him.

There were occasions when Abby's presence in our bed was very unfortunate for Connor and me. With everything else going on in Connor's life, those occasions were becoming less frequent, but they still happened. Less often than I would have liked, but that was life.

I glanced at the clock on the mantle, frowning at the late hour. I really hadn't expected it to be so close to midnight. But that explained why my eyelids were becoming heavy and I was having to reread the same paragraph over and over. Sighing, I closed the book and looked toward the doorway. I hadn't noticed Connor come out of his office. I was sure he was still in there, reading, writing, doing whatever it was he did.

I put the book down and stood up. I never went into my husband's personal room out of respect for him. What he did, he did with my support. I knew if he wanted me to know something, he would tell me. I didn't need to resort to snooping. As I usually did, I stopped at the door of the small study and tapped on the frame. Connor raised his head from the parchments scattered on the desk and looked at me. There was a confused disappointment in his gaze, as thought he felt he had been neglecting me and I was angry. I smiled at him to let him know everything was fine.

“Abby's asleep,” I told him.

Connor sat up, glancing toward the window. He noticed how dark it was and grimaced. “What time is it?” he asked.

“Late,” I answered vaguely.

Pushing himself away from the desk and few inches, Connor leaned back in his chair and ran his hands over his face. I felt it was okay for me to enter the room, so I did. I stood behind where he was seated and tentatively began to rub his shoulders and neck. His muscles were tight, knotted. He had been sitting here for many hours, in the same position. I knew he was uncomfortable.

Connor sighed and relaxed, closing his eyes. I bent down and placed my lips to his cheek. His lips twitched into a small, contented grin. The sweet expression was a reminder of how little he'd been home in the last five months. He'd spent Christmas aiding the Patriot army with their battles for control of the Colonies while I had spent mine reassuring our daughter that her father would be home soon. It had been our first holiday apart, and I had hated it just as much as Abby. I knew it had bothered Connor to be away during our family time, he had apologized ceaselessly on his return and promised to make it up to us. Abby's disappointment hurt him far more than mine. I understood that and didn't begrudge his attention to her. The one short week he'd been home in February had been for her sake. Then, there was her birthday. I loved watching him dote on his daughter, but felt a tad jealous that he'd not had time to give me the affection I was wanting.

I paused in my massage long enough to pull his hair away from his neck so that I could place my mouth to the tender spot below his ear. The spot I knew he liked for me to kiss. His head tilted, giving me better access as I nibbled gently.

“I think it is time for bed,” he murmured.

I smiled in agreement.

I backed away as Connor stood up. He began to put away some of his papers. I idly helped to hand him some of the parchments, not really paying any attention to them. Connor put the letters in a drawer, organizing them meticulously. He was a very neat person. He rarely helped with cleaning and didn't really mind when the dishes weren't done, but he always made sure his belongings were tidy. I never had to straiten up after Connor. That was one of the ways he made my life easier. It meant a lot to me. I'm not sure I had ever told him that before.

I smiled as I aided him with his cleaning. I picked up a folded piece of paper and noticed that it had his name written on it in neat, feminine script. I frowned at it. It looked personal.

“What's this?” I asked.

Connor flicked his eyes to the note in my hand. “A letter,” he said. “From Aveline.”

I resisted the sudden urge to wad the note up and toss it in the trash. I knew who Aveline was. I had heard Achilles mention her. As well as my husband. She was a member of the Colonial Brotherhood based in New Orleans. She had come north last month, seeking someone. Connor had met her and helped her. I hadn't really thought anything about it then. I was too intrigued by the fact of a female Assassin to give into my jealous inclinations. It never escaped my knowledge how handsome Connor was. I knew other women were attracted to him. They'd have to be stupid or blind not to be. But I trusted him, completely. I knew he was mine. But this letter brought back all the insecurities I had felt then and intensified them. I wondered what Aveline looked like, if she was pretty. Or more pretty than me. I wondered if Connor thought she was pretty. I wondered what the letter said and why he hadn't told me about it. I wondered all these things and felt a deep irritation at the woman I had never met. I realized I didn't like her.

Connor took the piece of paper from my hands easily, as if he knew my dark desire to destroy it. He watched me for a moment, his expression betraying nothing of what he was thinking.

“What?” I asked shortly. My tone was more harsh than I had intended. Connor's eyes flickered with amusement.

“Nothing,” he said casually. Placing the letter in the drawer, he closed it and stood up, looking at me. The light humor was still present on his features. It irritated me.

“Would you like to go to bed now?” he asked.

I shrugged and left the room, trying to ignore Connor's eyes on me as we walked upstairs to our bedroom. I changed into my nightgown, too aggravated to appreciate the sight of Connor getting undressed nearby. He hesitated before before putting his bed clothes on, maybe wondering if he should stay naked. I suppose seeing me dressed is what resigned him to do the same. He sighed as he got in bed beside me. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling. I was no longer in the mood for intimacy. My mind was preoccupied with the contents of that letter. I wanted to know what that woman had said to my husband. What her purpose for even staying touch with him was.

“You know your jealously has no cause,” Connor stated from next to me.

I glanced at him, my brow creasing in anger at his acknowledgment of my feelings. I didn't want him to know I was insecure. I knew my envy was silly and unjustified. His mention of it made me even more agitated. I pursed my lips to keep from pouting. I noticed him fight to hide a grin.

“It's not funny, Connor.”

He looked at me, trying for all the world to act serious, but failing miserably. “You are being silly.”

“You're being an ass,” I told him.

Connor cocked his head at me, raising his brows. “Would you like to know what the letter says?”

“No,” I lied quickly. I honestly did want to know. But I didn't want him to know that was what I wanted. I thought he would make fun of me if he knew how much it really bothered me. I had never had to compete from Connor attention before. This was a new and dismal sensation. I loathed the thought of another woman fantasizing about him. It made me wonder if his gaze ever wavered. I know he met many people on his travels. I was certain some of them were women. Likely very attractive women. He was a man and he had eyes. I suppose I couldn't blame him for admiring the scenery. But it irritated me all the same.

Connor raised himself up on his elbow, turning toward me. I tried not to look at him. I felt incredibly idiotic and self conscious. I hated feeling that way. It wasn't an emotion I was familiar with. I never really cared what anyone thought of me. Except Connor.

“She was only thanking me for helping her to locate the man she was seeking,” he said.

I huffed as if I didn't care. “She's not good enough to find a man on her own?” I quipped.

Connor made a noise. It took me a moment to place what it was. When I realized it was a chuckle, I scowled at him.

“Stop it,” I told him.

“Stop what?” he asked innocently.

“Stop enjoying the fact that I'm jealous.”

Connor smiled at me. It was a goading grin of triumph. My admission only served to amuse him even more. I tried to stay angry. I fixed him with a countenance that was more pout than glare. Connor scooted closer to me and put his arm around me.

“You know,” he said softly, “if spent all my time worrying about how other men look at you, I would never accomplish anything.”

I scoffed and returned his embrace. “Don't try to make me feel better,” I muttered in his chest.

“It is true,” Connor said. “You are very beautiful, Faith. I am not the only man who thinks that.”

I looked at his face. He caressed my cheek with his thumb. It was a touch he reserved for me and me alone. I knew that and it made me feel better.

“Do you ever get jealous?” I asked.

Connor considered the question for a moment, then shook his head. “I trust you,” he told me. “Besides, I enjoy the concept of other men wanting you, but not being able to have you.”

I laughed, thinking he was joking to lighten the mood. He looked serious, though. I couldn't help but believe he really felt that way. It was odd, considering what a upstanding person he was. He saw the good in everyone, even his enemies. I had never thought him capable of vindictive tendencies before.

I pulled him into a deep kiss, liking the way he was returning it until I heard the door creak open. We both looked over at Abby as she entered the room and stood by the bed, staring at us. She had her cornhusk doll in her hand, gripping it by it's hair.

“I'm scared,” she said. “Can I sleep with you?”

I gazed into the brown eyes of our daughter. They were pleading. The only fear I was able to detect in them was the fear of being rejected. It was more from habit that she had came in while we were still awake than fear. I was sure she was only making an excuse, hoping we would give in to her request at the notion of a nightmare.

Connor met my eyes, I knew he was going to tell her yes. It was almost impossible for him to tell his little girl no. Not that he even needed to say anything. Abby was already crawling onto the bed, wedging herself between us. Connor moved back to his side of the bed, giving her room to lay down.

“This is the last time you are sleeping with us, Awe:ri,” he said. I knew he was just talking, that he didn't really mean it. He had told her that before, more than once.

“Okay, Rake:ni,” Abby said. She rolled onto her side, sticking her thumb in her mouth and closing her eyes.

I smiled at my husband over our daughter's head. Connor grinned at me. I saw Abby let go of her doll and put her fingers in his hair. He sighed as she began to twirl the dark locks. Abby loved playing with her father's hair. It was a sentiment I shared. I often did the same thing when we lay in bed together.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“I love you, too,” Abby replied.

I giggled. My words had been directed at Connor, but I liked hearing it from her just as much.

“Konnoronhkwa, akhwa:tsire,” Connor muttered.

I closed my eyes and fell asleep with a perfectly happy smile on my face.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanien'keha:  
> Rake:ni - Father  
> Konnoronhkwa - I love you  
> akhwa:tsire - my family


	34. Domestic and Wild - 1777

I lay back on the grass, enjoying the warmth of the summer sun on my skin. I could hear the kids splashing and laughing in the shallow part of the creek nearby. I knew I didn't have to worry about watching Abby too closely. Maria was good about keeping an eye on her when she was around. They were like sisters. Each of them being an only child and the only female children in a town full of males gave them a solid bond. Not that they didn't like playing with the boys, too. Especially Aedan, Godfrey and Catherine's oldest son. He was a fine young man, polite and considerate. I didn't need for Maria to tell me she had a crush on him. I could tell by the way she smiled at the boy.

I raised my head as the surrounding got suddenly quiet. My maternal instincts caused me to worry any time I didn't hear my daughter making some kind of noise. She was never very quiet. Not even when she was sleeping. Like her father, Abby snored softly at night.

I relaxed and let my fear subside when I saw the group gathered around the shoreline, staring at something on the ground. I thought they had found a frog or a turtle to keep them occupied. But as I squinted between the feet of the group of children, I noticed a furry object trembling. I stood up and walked over to where they were. Abby was in the center of the group, sitting on the muddy bank, staring at a little wolf cub. She was speaking to it softly, in Kanien'keha.

The poor little pup was shivering in fear as the faces of the kids hovered over it. I could hear it whimpering softly. I shooed the children back and took Abby's hand. She reluctantly let me move her away from the pup.

“Can we keep it, Ista?” she asked.

I couldn't help but grin at the question. The cub couldn't have been more than a month old. It was skinny and dirty, looking horribly pitiful. I wondered where it's mother was and how it had gotten so far from the woods. Wolves usually stayed in the norther forest. It was rare to see them this close to civilization, especially young ones. I guessed this little guy – or girl – had wondered away from the den and gotten lost. Or it had been cast out of the pack for being thought weak.

“Can we?” Abby asked again. She looked up at me with her large brown eyes. It was that very stare that made Connor give in to her all the time. She was spoiled rotten, thanks to him.

“Let me shoot it,” Hugh spoke up.

Maria and Abby gasped at the statement. It was like Hugh to want to use his rifle on any sort of animal. He fancied himself a hunter. He plagued birds and squirrels everyday, but had never really fired on anything bigger than a rabbit.

I looked at Terry's son. “You're not going to shoot it,” I said. “It's just a baby.”

“It's dangerous,” he told me.

Abby started crying and pulling on my hand. It was rare for her to shed tears for any reason. She mostly just got mad and threw a fit when she disagreed with something. It made me realize how strongly she felt about animals. I knew she loved horses. She always had. She couldn't wait to be big enough to ride one her own. She visited the stables every day, playing with Akosha:tens' filly. The one she had named Akwa:wen, the Mohawk word for mine.

“Ista, please,” she begged, hugging me tightly. “Don't let Hugh kill Okwaho.”

I sighed realizing she had already given it a name. And an incredibly unoriginal one at that. She reminded me so much of her father I couldn't help but smile. “He's not going to kill the pup,” I told her. “We'll take it home and feed it.”

Abby looked at me with a highly appreciative and happy grin on her face. “Nia:wen! Nia:wen! Nia:wen!”

“I'm not saying we can keep it, Abby.” I took her chin and made her look at me. “We'll take care of it for a few days. But if Rake:ni says no, we have to turn it loose.”

It would be far easier to let Connor make this decision than for me to tell my daughter she couldn't keep the puppy. Considering I had the same soft spot for animals as Abby had, I would let my husband take sole responsibility for this outcome. It might have been a little mean of me to expect him to have the final word, but he knew as well as I did that our house would be a zoo if it was up to me.

Abby gave me a sweet smile. “Rake:ni will say yes.”

 

“No.”

I looked at Connor, trying not to frown as Abby pouted. Okwaho was lying on his makeshift bedding of old linens that the little girl and I had made for him when we'd brought him home. In the three days as his and nurse milk from one of Abby's old bottles. His teeth were tiny and sharp, but not strong enough to eat solid foods yet. I had given him some mashed up deer yesterday, which he seemed to like. But he'd had difficulty chewing the big pieces.

“Please, Rake:ni!” Abby begged. “Ista said we could keep him.”

Connor looked over at me, a slight expression of defiance in his gaze. I looked away, refusing to admit to anything. That hadn't been what I said, exactly. But I didn't tell him that. In truth, I wanted to keep the pup. I had thought Abby's pleading look would be enough to convince her father to give in. But he was being firm for the first time ever.

“We do not need another pet, Awe:ri,” Connor told her.

“Yes, we do,” Abby pleaded with a sad voice.

“We have plenty of animals already,”

“But we don't have a doggie,” she told him.

E:rahr had died last year. Abby hadn't been old enough to understand, so Connor and I had just told her he ran away. It had saddened me, but Connor was unaffected. I wondered why. E:rahr had been his dog. He'd had him for a long time, every since he'd moved in with Achilles. But Connor was a rock. He said death was just a part of life. Passing from this world to the next should be rejoiced, not mourned. I understood his point of view, but it was hard to accept.

Connor knelt down in front of Abby and looked at her. “That is not a dog,” he said. “It is a wolf. A wild animal. The instincts such a beast are not easily tamed, Awe:ri. I do not want you to be hurt.”

Abby pulled away from him, crying loudly, and went to where the baby animal was resting. She lay down beside him and wrapped her arms around his neck. The wolf cub raised his head, glanced at her, then went back to dozing while Abby wept on his fur.

I exchanged at look with my husband. One that let him know I was disappointed in his decision. He sighed and stood up. He passed the doorway I was leaning against and his countenance let me know he wanted to speak to me alone. I followed him into the hall, closing the door behind me. Connor looked at me.

“You told her she could keep a young wolf?”

“No,” I answered weakly. “I told her if it was okay with you we could keep him.”

Connor's brow knit at my words. I pursed my lips together, trying not to betray my anxiousness. I knew I had to be calm if I wanted to persuade him. Connor responded better to rational conversation than he did to begging. With me, at least.

“He's only a baby,” I stated. “He won't survive if we turn him loose now.”

Connor sighed, crossing his arms and watching me with a struggling look of indecision. I knew he was close to giving in, but not close enough to be pressed. I stayed quiet, glancing at him with a slight pout, and hoping he would resign to letting us keep the puppy.

“One month,” he stated firmly.

I hid a smile as I waited for him to list the terms of the agreement.

“After that, the wolf is being returned to the woods – whether it can fend for itself or not.”

I nodded, trying not to betray how happy I was with his choice. “You wanna tell Abby?”

Connor exhaled loudly and went back into the room where Abby was laying with her doggie. After a moment, I heard her let out an excited exclamation. I smiled to myself, knowing that she would find some way to convince him to keep Okwaho forever.

 

Seven weeks later...

 

I avoided looking at the stern gaze my husband was giving me as I finished washing the dishes. I was taking my time on purpose, slowly wiping the cloth over every part of each plate, front and back. Connor had only just gotten back home. From where I wasn't sure. He had been off sailing, spending time with his beloved _Aquila_. I tried not to be jealous of that, even though I felt like she got more of his attention than I did at times. I didn't understand his appeal to the open seas, his love of the salty wind. We were different in that way, much as we were in every other.

“I thought we had an agreement,” he spoke softly.

I glanced over my shoulder at his face, ignoring the firmness in his expression and giving him a confused frown. “About what?”

Connor's eyes narrowed and he paced a few steps forward, stopping just a few inches behind me. He watched me intently as I maintained the air of ignorance at the subject.

“About the wolf.”

“Oh,” I murmured in understanding. I glanced back at the soapy water, realizing that it was empty of anything to wash. I began to dip the rag, swirling it around the surface of the liquid. “I decided we should keep him.”

I heard Connor let out a displeased breath. “Faith...”

I turned around to face him, pretending I didn't care if he was upset with my choice. I did care, really. I didn't want to argue with him, especially over something this silly. But was adamant about letting Abby keep Okwaho. He really was a good pup, well behaved and playful. He made her laugh in a way few things could. I felt they were a good match for each other. Abby needed someone to play with, someone to give attention to. I thought she needed a pet to make up for not being able to have a sibling.

I crossed my arms, waiting for Connor to make his argument. I was sure he had a long list of reasons why we shouldn't try to domesticate a bay wolf. I knew the risks involved in taming a feral beast, but also knew we stood a good chance of avoiding all of them because we had found Okwaho at such a young age. He had never acted hostile once toward Abby. Even when she pulled his tail or ears he would only yelp and look at her with large surprised eyes.

Connor watched me for a long time in silence. Then the corner of his mouth rose in a sly grin. I hated it when he gave me that look. Not because he would react in a cruel way, but because he was about to make a statement that would bait me into denying something I knew was true.

“If you wanted a pet, why did you not just say so?”

I gave him an irritated frown. I didn't like it that he knew me so well. I felt like there were no more mysteries between us. It made me feel boring, but not in a wholly bad way. It was comfortable to have someone who knew me as well as I knew myself. But I didn't want him to know that.

“Abby wants to keep him,” I stated defiantly.

Connor nodded slowly, as though he wasn't convinced. “He is to stay outside.”

I couldn't keep a frown of displeasure from my face at that. I liked having Okwaho in the house. I liked it when he and Abby would come to my bed at night and keep me awake with all their moving and noises. It gave me a security that I rarely felt when Connor wasn't home. It wasn't that I thought the pup would make a good protector, more he was like a second baby to me. I had an attachment to him.

“Fine,” I grumbled.

My husband gave me secretive smirk before leaving the kitchen. He knew as well as I did that Okwaho would be inside again as soon as he left. He just chose to let it go. I guess that's why I loved him so much.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanien'keha:  
> Ista - Mother  
> Rake:ni - Father  
> Akosha:tens - horse  
> Akwa:wen - mine  
> Nia:wen - Thank you.  
> Okwaho - wolf  
> E:rahr - dog  
> Awe:ri - heart


	35. Dolls and Adornments - 1777

 

I had found that the best way to get Abby to stay in her own bed at night was to let Okwaho sleep with her. Connor didn't argue much with this, he accepted it and made sure the dog was put outside during the day. Abby protested this strongly during the winter. She made the argument that he would get cold, to which Connor replied that Okwaho knew how to stay warm. I tried to remain neutral during these spats. I was sympathetic to both sides, content that my husband allowed us to keep Okwaho and understanding that he should be out of the house when I was trying to clean it. Muddy paws and wet floors did not mix well. I had a hard enough time keeping my daughter's prints confined to the hallway.

“You spoil her.”

I looked at Connor with a bemused face as he expressed that thought to me while we were changing for bed. I let out a disagreeing chuckle that he found somewhat offensive.

“You give in every time she frowns at you, but I'm the one who spoils her,” I countered.

Connor gazed at me with defiance. “I do not give in _every_ time.”

I scoffed as I lay down, ignoring the glare he shot my way as he did the same. I stretched out on the bed, feeling my tense body ache as I relaxed. I had spent the entire day in the kitchen making preparations for the dinner we would be having at the main house tomorrow. This was going to be our largest Christmas get together to date. Abby had decided to invite everyone on the homestead over for a festive yuletide party. Achilles had went along with her wishes without making a single comment. That was unusual for the old man. I suppose he did it for Abby, because she was his baby.

“Did you eat the cookie?” I asked Connor.

I heard him release an irritated groan. Connor didn't entertain the notion of Santa Clause that Abby and I did, but he said nothing about the little girl's belief in a magical being who left her gifts based on good behavior. He had asked me what I would do if Abby was disobedient, but I didn't bother to answer him. He knew I would let her have presents no matter how she acted.

“Yes.”

I smiled as I curled up against his chest, wrapping my arm around his waist. Our nighttime ritual was cuddling until Connor fell asleep then turning away from each other. It never took long for him to start dozing. Small wonder, considering how busy he stayed all his waking hours. Even when he was home, we had very few minutes together. He was either conditioning, playing with Abby, talking to Achilles or helping our neighbors with whatever they needed done. Connor was everyone's go to handyman. He was dependable and responsible. Not to mention physically fit to carry out whatever task he was given. I never minded – unless it got in the way of what I wanted him to do around our house. I was constantly thinking of ways to remodel and improve our home. I think it irritated Connor sometimes, but he usually didn't say much about my creative inclinations.

When I heard Connor begin to snore, I rolled onto my other side and stared at the wall until I felt myself drift off. I hadn't been asleep long when I awoke with an odd sensation of anxiety and fear that stemmed from a dream I couldn't for the life of me remember. I jerked as I felt an arm go around my shoulders and relaxed as my husband scooted against my back.

“Go back to sleep,” Connor mumbled in my ear.

Had I been less preoccupied with my vision, I might have noticed that Connor was awake. At the time, I thought he was just speaking from the limbo between both worlds. I could do nothing more than obey his request. I closed my eyes and did as he said.

The next time I woke up, it was still dark out, but there was an excited three year old girl in our room yelling for our attention. Along with the pleas for us to get up and see what Santa had left was the heavy bounding of furry paws on my side. I pushed Okwaho off me and heard Connor let out a grunt.

“Iah!” Connor commanded.

The pup hopped off the bed and stood at Abby's side, staring at us expectantly. I knew he was only happy because he would be getting fed when I went downstairs. Abby was happy for an entirely different reason. She was anxious to open her presents.

I sat up, fighting against the grogginess and tried to smile at my daughter. “Don't you think it's a little early to have Christmas?”

Abby shook her head, her long brown tangles flapping around her shoulders as she did. “You said when I waked up I could open them.”

I wasn't really sure how to respond to her literal logic at the moment, so I looked at Connor. He was still half asleep, his eyes barely open. “You did say that,” he grumbled.

I frowned at him. “You know if I get up you're getting up, too.”

Connor sighed and looked at Abby. “Wait until the sun rises.”

Her expression became a sulking glare and she crossed her arms in frustration. “But Santa came.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

Abby nodded. “The cookie is gone and there are presents under the tree.”

Connor rolled over enough to take her hand and pull her to the bed. “You have to wait until day light to open your gifts, Awe:ri.

Abby pouted again. “But-”

Connor shook his head, cutting her off. “You can lay down with Rake:ni and Ista until morning.”

Abby huffed, but climbed into bed and lay between us, sulking. Okwaho started to jump up on the mattress, but Connor stopped him with a firm word.

“Satien.”

The animal's ears flattened and he whimpered, lowering himself to the wooden floor. I tried to relax, longing for a few more minutes of rest before the busy day began. It was a futile effort. Abby's fidgeting and whispers about what she hoped was waiting for her downstairs prevented me from going back to sleep. I resigned myself to laying there with her, talking softly while Connor dozed until the early rays of dawn shown through the window. Then I let Abby wake her father up and we followed her downstairs. Within ten minutes she had undid all the hours of work Connor and I had put into wrapping her presents. The smiles and exclamations of joy make all the effort worth it in the end.

When most the commotion died down, Abby looked at Connor. “Is it time to give Ista her present now?”

I looked at the two of them. Connor and I had not done traditional gift exchanges in the last three years. We let Abby pick something for each of us and said it was from everyone, but we didn't worry about trying to surprise each other with items. We gave the other things we needed when we needed them, not worrying about holidays. This year we had gotten a new wardrobe for our bedroom. It was a joint gift, something we could both use.

“What present?” I asked.

Connor looked at Abby. “It was suppose to be a surprise.”

“I did not tell her,” Abby stated proudly, either forgetting that she had just mentioned it or thinking that since it was Christmas her slip up didn't count.

“What present?” I asked again, eying Connor.

“Rake:ni got you a special present, Ista!” Abby exclaimed.

“He did!” I said, matching her tone. “What is it?”

Abby was not good at keeping secrets. I knew that. And she opened her mouth to speak, but Connor beat her to it.

“Sahasot'sat,” he told her.

Abby shut her mouth and sat down on the floor stoking the curls of her new doll's pigtails. It was a porcelain doll, beautifully made with pale skin and black hair. Connor had gotten it on his last trip to New York. I was afraid Abby would break it, but Connor made her promise to be very careful when she held it. She said she would put it up before we went to Pop's house for dinner later and not get it back down until she had his permission.

Connor looked at me. “I was going to wait until tonight,” he said.

He stood up and went to the tree, digging around in the branches until he came out with a small velvet box. My initial thought when I saw it was jewelry, but it would be so unlike Connor to give me any kind of adornment that I pushed the idea from my head quickly. He came over to where I was seated and held the box out to me. He didn't say anything, only offered me the gift. I took it.

I thought I was going to faint when I raised the lid of the small container. It was jewelry. But not just jewelry. It was a wedding ring. A golden, beautifully inscribed band that had not been bought at a store. It was far more lovely than anything I had ever seen. The details in the engraved design were done with care and precision. I didn't notice a single imperfection on the band as I studied it with awed fascination.

“Oh, my God,” I breathed.

I looked up at my husband, speechless. He knelt down, took the ring carefully from the box and put it on my finger. It fit as thought it were made for me, not too big and not too small.

“I had Dave make it for you,” he said.

“How much did it cost?” I asked.

Connor frowned at me. “Does it matter?”

I could do nothing but shrug. I had spent most of my adult life worried about finances and budgeting to make sure we had everything we needed. I wasn't the type of person to spend money needlessly. If I saw something I wanted, I would save up for it. But if it came between a luxury for myself and something for the family, family came first. Always. Connor knew I was that way. He also knew I had sort of wanted for us to get wedding bands. Not for any real reason, just because I wanted one. I was shocked he had done this for me.

“Do you like it, Ista?”

I looked at Abby as she peeked out from behind her father's shoulder to look at the ring on my finger. She had her doll cradled in her arms, gingerly carrying it. She gazed at me with concern, and I realized there were tears in my eyes. I wiped them away hurriedly.

“I love it,” I said.

Abby smiled. “Rake:ni has one, too.”

I looked at Connor. He shrugged at me. “I know you wanted us to have matching bands,” he said. “I can have Dave make me one like yours if you choose, but I have another I would prefer to use. If you do not mind.”

“You mean the one you found on Oak Island?” I asked.

Connor nodded. It hadn't escaped my knowledge that Connor carried Captain Kidd's hidden relic with him at all times. Given the strange power it held, I wanted him to have it. It had been that very ring that had got me to mention my desire for wedding bands to him in the first place. It had been summer when Connor had found it, and I had not said much since then. But Connor had never worn that ring on his finger. He always kept it in his pocket. I asked if it even fit him. He said it did.

“Then wear that one,” I told him. “I don't care if they match or not. I only care about you.”

Connor grinned at me and gave me a sweet kiss on the lips.

“Ista,” Abby called. “Can we have breakfast now? Kara:ken is hungry.”

I looked at her. “What?”

Abby held up her doll. I nodded, understanding that she had named her.

“You are going to call your doll white?” Connor asked.

Abby nodded. “She is white, Rake:ni.”

I laughed. “At least it's not kaia'ton:ni.”

Connor gave me mock glare as I got up and went to the kitchen to start on breakfast. Even though it had just begun, this was the best Christmas I had ever had.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanien'keha:  
> Okwaho - Wolf  
> Iah - No  
> Rake:ni - Father  
> Ista - Mother  
> Satien - Sit  
> Sahasot'sat - Be quiet  
> Kara:ken - white  
> kaia'ton:ni - doll


	36. Jobs and Guests - 1778

Being the wife of an Assassin was actually more boring than I would have thought. Much of that was owed to Connor's constant absences. I equated it with having a husband who traveled for business. In truth, I suppose that was an accurate assessment. The only thing lacking was a steady paycheck and health benefits. Considering we never needed for anything, I guess those didn't really matter.

The worst part about Connor's 'job' was the inability to contact him if something happened while he was away. I was plagued by what ifs and hows when he wasn't home. Not so much for my sake, but for his. I knew Connor would blame himself ceaselessly if something happened and he wasn't here to prevent it. I didn't want him to have that sort of guilt. Nor did I really want to have to deal with all the trials of parenthood on my own. There were many times I wished he was home for certain events. None of them very serious, only situations I would have felt better with having moral support from my spouse during. There was always Achilles, but that just wasn't the same. I desired to have Connor around – and never more than the spring of '78.

It was less than a week until Abby's fourth birthday that I really loathed not being able to get in touch with Connor. He had left after Christmas with the intention of telling Washington everything. The old man had disagreed with this decision adamantly. I could hear the raised voices in front of the manor as they argued from my seat in the living room. Connor had always had a temper and was prone to displaying it when he felt inclined to do so. But I had never heard Achilles raise his voice before that day. The old man wasn't above arguing, but he did so in a firm tone. Or, he always had before. Yet his aged words carried more anger when stating Connor's foolishness then I had thought possible. I'm not sure what it was that my husband said to make Achilles so angry, but I knew it was harsh.

Achilles didn't say much to me for a few days after his fight with Connor. When he did speak to me, he asked if I thought what my husband was doing was the right course of action. Being unsure about all the details, I only told him that it was my obligation as Connor's wife to support his decisions – whether I agreed with them or not. I might have imagined it, but I thought I saw a bit of pride beneath the ire in the old man's expression when I answered so maturely. In any case, he let it go and things went back to normal between us.

Abby and I were deep in the middle of a tea party with Kara:ken when we got a visitor. I had made some cookies for the occasion, which she was devouring gladly. I didn't let Abby have sweets very much. She was rowdy enough with out the added sugar.

“Kara:ken likes the cookies, Ista,” she said proudly.

“I think Abby does, too,” I replied.

She smiled and took another treat from the center of the coffee table. I was about to tell her that was the last one she could have when I heard a knock on the door. Abby stood up, looking into the hallway.

“I'll get it!” she called.

Guessing it was only Achilles of Maria, I let Abby run to the door. I took my time getting up, as I heard her open the entry and greet whoever was on the other side. I was perplexed when the voice that answered was one couldn't place right away. It made me leery about who would be calling. I had the sensation that I knew that voice, that I had heard it before. I casually hoped my suspicions were wrong as I entered the hall. I froze in shock as I was met with the sight of the speaker. He was a man I recognized well. A man I had met once and hoped to never see again. A man who's picture hung in the basement of the manor next to the title of Grand Master.

“Haytham,” I murmured in awe.

He looked at me, taking his eyes from the little girl who was holding the door open and staring up at the newcomer. A grin played at his lips as he noticed my stunned reaction to his presence.

“Hello, Faith.”

I suddenly became aware that my daughter was standing not a foot from the Templar who was also her grandfather. I moved over quickly, taking her hand and pulling her beside me. Abby let out a startled yelp, not sure about the situation. She looked up at me with confusion, her dark eyes flicking between me and Haytham.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

Haytham looked thrown off by the question, as thought it was common practice for him to visit people he didn't really know. As though his visit would be accepted for no other reason than he was my husband's father.

“I came to see Abigail,” he said. “Connor mentioned it was almost her birthday. I thought that a perfect opportunity to spend time with my granddaughter.”

His statement gave me so many questions I didn't know which to ask first. As I tried to conjure a coherent thought, Abby looked up at me. Her expression became one of excitement at the subject of her birthday.

“He came for my party, Ista!”

I shook my head, not sure how to respond – unable to respond. I had never expected to see Haytham Kenway on my doorstep. It was an event I was unprepared for. One I had thought I would never have to face. Yet, here I was. Just me and Abby. Alone. Without Connor here to explain or offer support. I felt a deep anger at my husband for not being home right now. Had he been here, I had a strong desire to knock the hell out of him. I probably wouldn't have done it had I the opportunity, but I certainly wanted to at the moment.

Haytham knelt down, getting on Abby's level, and smiled at her. “That's right,” he said.

His eyes looked her over, scanning her features for the familiar ones that betrayed her linage. I had always known Abby favored her father, but – until that moment – I hadn't realized how much Connor favored his father. Our daughter shared some of those same traits. It pained me to acknowledge the fact that she resembled Haytham.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like your grandmother?” Haytham asked Abby.

Abby stared at him, not sure what to make of this information. She thought for a moment, then turned a critical gaze to Haytham. “Akshotha Kaniehti:io?” she asked.

Haytham gave her a frown, but nodded slowly. “Ziio. Yes.”

“Rake:ni tells me that, too,” Abby said.

I realized that Haytham's confusion about Abby's statements were because she was speaking some of her words in Kanien'keha. I was used to it. Everyone who knew her was used to the mixture of languages. But not Haytham. He had never learned to say anything in Mohawk. I found that disrespectful and narcissistic. His son being of another culture didn't matter one bit to him. It irked me that he called himself Connor's father when he knew nothing about him – didn't _attempt_ to learn anything about him. He saw him as an Assassin and nothing more, only using their relation when it was convenient for him. I knew it would be the same with Abby. I knew this short meeting would likely be the only time she ever saw her grandfather. I was glad for that. But also angry. It was wrong to toy with people the way Haytham did, using feelings for personal means. I didn't want him hurting my daughter like that. I didn't want him around her at all. I wanted to tell him to leave. But I wanted to do it in a way that wouldn't upset Abby.

“It was nice to see you again, Haytham,” I said, forcing the words to not sound strained. “But I'm sure you have better things to do-”

“Better?” he cut me off, rising to his feet. “What could I possibly have to do that would be better than spending time with my family?”

There was a long pause where I tried to think of another way to coax him into leaving. Haytham watched me, a goading grin on his face at my hesitance.

“We are having a tea party,” Abby said in the quiet. “Ista made cookies.”

Haytham smiled at her. “I'm sure they're delicious.”

Abby grinned at him, nodding vigorously. In a quick motion, she took Haytham's hand, pulling him into the house. “Come on. I will let you have one.”

“Wait,” I called, making Abby freeze and look at me. The innocent expression on her face hurt me more than I was willing to show. She didn't understand what was going on. She didn't understand that Haytham wasn't a good person. She didn't understand that he was the enemy, that I didn't like him. She liked him, because he was nice to her. Because he had said her father's name and knew it was almost her birthday. To her, that made him a friend. I cursed silently, wishing life were as simple as she thought it to be.

“You go get Haytham a plate,” I said softly. “I'll take his coat.”

Abby nodded. She let go of Haytham's hand and ran into the living room. That left the two of us alone. I looked at the man I thought I would never see again, and he looked at me.

“Was it not you,” he said quietly, as he removed his jacket and handed it to me, “who wanted me to take an interest in my son's life?”

“I wanted you to _spare_ his life,” I hissed, clutching the garment in tight fists. “Not take an interest in it.”

Haytham opened his mouth to respond. Before he could speak, Abby called to him that his cookie was ready. Haytham gave me a small grin that irritated me.

“Excuse me,” he said in an incredibly polite tone. “My granddaughter requires my attention.”

I think he turned away before he noticed the sneer on my face. If he didn't, he chose to ignore it. He left the hallway, talking to Abby in a sweet tone that she replied to with excitement. I knew this was going to end badly. _Knew_ it. But there was not much I could do. Haytham had made an impression on my daughter, one that any other parent might be glad for. But I wasn't glad. I was anxious. Afraid this was all some sort of plot the Templar had concocted for reasons unknown to me.

I took a moment to wonder exactly where my husband was when I needed him most while I hung Haytham's coat on the hook next to mine. Then I entered the living room and watching with a baffled countenance as Abby held a fantastic tea party with a man I had once entertain thoughts of killing. It was the most awkward afternoon of my life.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanien'keha:  
> Kara:ken - white  
> Ista - Mother  
> Akshotha - Grandmother


	37. Admissions and Excuses - 1778

 

It was against my better judgment to leave Abby alone with Haytham. Yet, I did it. I did it mostly because the man had not expressed even the simplest bit of unkindness to my daughter in the three days he had been consistently visiting her. Haytham played with Abby, he spoke to her, he praised her on how advanced she was for her age. He even doled out small amounts of affection in the form of light pats on her head. It was with a silent remorse that I noticed how much Abby adored Haytham. All she talked about when he wasn't around were things he did, things he said. She was ecstatic to have him in her life. And she called him Grandfather.

I wasn't the only one daunted by the bond that had developed between the Templar and my baby girl. It bothered Achilles as well. I didn't try to keep Haytham's visits a secret from the old man. It would have done no good. Even if Achilles hadn't noticed the newcomer on his own, Abby would have told him. She related everything to Pops. Every detail of all she had seen and heard was discussed with the man I considered to be my father. Achilles would only frown at her when Abby spoke of Haytham, but I could see the concern on his face. He didn't trust Haytham any more than I did. But his love for Abby kept him quiet about his worry.

I had my reasons for wanting to speak to Connor alone before he got home. Only the least of which was my desire for an explanation to his father's presence on the homestead. I had been anxiously checking the harbor for the _Aquila_ periodically over the last few days. My impatience was finally rewarded as I noticed her dock just after Haytham arrived for his visit. I didn't have too difficult a time convincing Abby to wait for me at home. She was excited to see her father again after nearly four months away, but she was content to stay with Haytham while I rode Akosha:tens down to get him.

The crew was busy unloading supplies under the watchful eye of the first mate when I arrived at the shore. Bobby looked at me as I approached the deck of the ship.

“Afternoon, Faith,” he said. “I take it you're here for the captain?”

I nodded at him. “Where is he?”

Mr. Faulkner nodded to the door of Connor's quarters. “Changin'. But I guess he won't mind if you go in.”

I ignored the implication of the grin he gave me and entered without knocking. Connor glanced at the door, his frown turning to a smile as he noticed that it was only me invading his privacy. He had already removed his naval outfit and was in the process of donning his Assassin's attire. He hadn't gotten very far. All he had on was his pants.

“She:kon, kheksten:ha,” he greeted, dropping his shirt on the bed. He came over and embraced me tightly. “You did not bring Awe:ri with you?”

I shook my head, hugging him in a distracted, but relieved way. I couldn't keep from worrying about Connor's safety when he was gone. No matter the amount of assurances he gave me on how well the crew did their job or how dependable the _Aquila_ was, I always breathed easier when I saw him home unscathed.

After a moment of relishing the feel of my husband's arms around me, I pulled back, releasing Connor and looking at him. I noted the content grin on his face and was loath to break the pleasantness with solemnity.

“How was your trip?” I asked, hoping to gain insight.

Connor thought for a second, his expression becoming less glad and more unsure. “Interesting,” he answered.

“I imagine so,” I murmured.

Connor gazed at me, his brow wrinkling at the underlying intent in my words. He knew I was stalling, that I had something on my mind. I could tell he did, too. Connor had very few tales when it came to hiding information, but I knew him well enough to point out the reluctance in his body language. The way he stood, that slightly shame ridden stance he got when he talked about work. The way he wouldn't fully meet my eyes, but focused mostly on my mouth instead. I could tell he was hiding something, and that he knew I was aware of that fact. Connor and I had vowed not to keep secrets from each other. That gave me a tad more reluctance at voicing what I had to say.

Connor noticed my hesitation, noticed I was disinclined to speak to him. He watched me for a moment, trying to be patient.

“Is there something you would like to tell me, Faith?” he asked. The tone of his voice was soft, supportive.

“Yes,” I said.

Connor met my eyes. “Yet, you fear I will become angry.”

I nodded.

He sighed and took my hand, leading me to the bed. We sat on the edge, turning slightly so that we were facing the other. Connor didn't release his grip on my fingers. “If I give you my word to remain calm when you speak, will you make me the same promise?”

Considering I already had an idea of what Connor wanted to say to me, I gave him a nod. I was irritated that he had obviously spoken to Haytham at some point, but I understood that he hadn't gotten a chance to fill me in sooner. I hated that we couldn't converse about such things daily, but knew that was just how it had to be.

He made a motion for me to go ahead. I took a moment, deciding on how best to phrase what I wanted to say. I had never been very good with words, nor was I eloquent. I spoke bluntly when I expressed my thoughts. Connor had gotten used to my crass nature during our time together, but I could tell he still didn't always like the way I voiced my opinions. And the last thing I wanted to do was start a disagreement.

“Connor,” I began soothingly, “do you remember me telling you how I tried to get General Putnam to release you from prison?”

He nodded, a faint grimace on his face at the memory of his incarceration. It had been an unpleasant experience for him, one he didn't like to discuss. He still had the scars – both mentally and physically – to show for it. That was one reason I loathed bringing up this topic. It was one of the reasons I had stayed silent all this time.

“Putnam wasn't the only one I went to for help,” I stated.

Connor watched me with a wrinkle in his forehead, one that told me he knew what I was going to say next. I didn't see any point in trying to sugar coat it, so I just told him that I went to see Haytham. Connor gazed at me for a long moment in complete quiet. The only sounds were the muffled sloshing of waves on the hull of the ship and the distant sounds of the crew as they finished their duties. When Connor finally spoke, it was with a soft tone of acceptance that made me feel somewhat more relaxed.

“You approached my father and asked him to help me?”

I nodded.

“And he refused.”

It wasn't a question, but I nodded again anyhow.

“I understand why you would go to such lengths in an attempt to aid me,” Connor said. “What I do not understand is why you chose now to reveal this. I doubt you did so without purpose.”

“No,” I agreed. “I'm telling you now because I want you to hear it from me not...someone else.”

Connor emitted a short hum. “I get the feeling you know I have spoken to my father recently.”

“He told me,” I said. “When he came to visit Abby for her birthday.”

Connor's eyes widened perceptibly at the revelation. It was a shock to him that Haytham came to see us. That let me know the idea had been solely Haytham's and that my husband had not extended an invitation.

“He was here?” Connor asked in disbelief.

“He's here now,” I told him. “At home with Abby.”

I didn't miss the hint of disapproval in his expression when I told Connor that I had left our daughter alone with his father. But he made no comment about my decision. It eased my mind to know he was as conflicted about the Templar as I was. Our doubt at least gave us a common ground, one that we could stand together on, despite everything.

After a tense time of quiet, Connor sighed loudly. “Let me finish dressing and we will go home.”

“I'd like that,” I said.

He stood up and went to get his clothes, putting them on while I gazed around the room. I had been here before, a few times. But I had never really paid much attention to the contents of the quarters. It was Connor's space, just like his office at home. I respected it, avoided being nosy.

My eyes fell on a sack in the corner near the door. What it contained was large. I stared at it for a while, wondering about what was inside. Connor must have noticed me looking at it.

“Awe:ri's gift,” he said.

“What did you get her?” I asked.

“A saddle,” Connor murmured.

I turned to my husband. He was fastening his bracer on his wrist, not meeting my eyes as I favored him with a glare. “We agreed she couldn't ride until she turns five,” I reminded him in a stern voice.

Connor peeked over at me, giving me a sheepish shrug. “But she will need a saddle.”

I frowned deeply at him. “Giving it to her now will only make her more impatient.”

Having finished what he was doing, Connor came over, took my hands and pulled me to my feet. He looked at me. “I will not let her ride alone,” he told me.

I was still unhappy with his decision to let Abby ride in the first place. I gave him a faint grimace. “I wish you wouldn't go behind my back and give her what she wants.”

“The way you did with Okwaho?” Connor asked with a goading grin.

“That's different,” I said quickly, pointing my finger in his face.

He stared at me with defiance, daring me to give a reason for my disagreement. I couldn't really think of one at the moment, but I tried my hardest.

“Awe:ri is responsible for her age,” Connor said. “You do not need to worry about her so much. I will not allow her to do anything if I think it dangerous. I promise.”

I could think of nothing else to do, so I exhaled loudly and nodded. “I know.”

Connor smiled at me and pressed his lips to my forehead in a sweet kiss. I couldn't keep from grinning when he did that. It was one of the small ways he let me know how much he loved me. Along with one of my favorites.

“Let's go home, yohskats.”

I knew he was only calling me that in an attempt to make me feel better. I was both flattered and irritated that the words succeeded so well in their purpose.

“I'm curious about what led to you telling Haytham about Abby's birthday,” I said as we left the cabin.

“It is a long story,” Connor said. “I will tell you on the way home.”

I nodded, content to wait a few more minutes to hear whatever excuse Connor was going to make. I knew he would think it a good one, but I didn't hold the same hope for my own opinion. Yet, I would accept his side of this. He was my husband, after all. It was my duty to stand with him, even if the entire world crashed to our feet around us.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanien'keha:  
> Akosha:tens - horse  
> Awe:ri - Heart  
> She:kon - Greeting  
> kheksten:ha - my wife  
> Okwaho - Wolf  
> yohskats (iohskats) - beautiful


	38. Allegiance and Doubt - 1778

 

It gave me no small amount of anger when Achilles told me he would not be coming to Abby's birthday party. He thought it best to keep his distance from certain people. By certain people, I knew he meant Haytham. I told him not to worry about what Connor's father thought. Achilles was more welcome at our house than he was. He deserved to be there more than Haytham did.

The old man only shook his head slowly with a pained expression when I announced this. “There'll be many more parties, Faith. You can't expect me to attend them all.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he hushed me with a stern gaze. “Abby will be too excited to even notice my absence,” Achilles said. “I'll give her my gift once the commotion dies down.”

I could tell he had made up his mind, and there was no changing it. I simply nodded, keeping my agitation to myself while he began to walk back toward the manor. Pausing a few feet away, Achilles turned to me.

“I wouldn't mind a slice of cake if you have any left, though.”

The smile that accompanied the words only made me feel worse about the entire situation. It hurt that he was going to miss out on a family function because my father in law had decided to show up. I had half a mind to make Haytham leave. But, to do that, would mean hurting Abby. So, I stayed quiet.

It wasn't just for Abby that I tolerated Haytham. I did it for Connor, as well. My husband seemed to have some notion that there could be a peace between he and his estranged father. As much as I wanted to tell him that would never happen, I couldn't bring myself to crush his hopes. It was out of a childish yearn for paternal affection that Connor was kind to his enemy. That was a longing I could understand. I had that same wish all through life. The dream that my parents would change their mind and come find me. It wasn't an easy fantasy to dispel – even if you knew the truth, you somehow forgot it at times. I hoped this truce could last for my husband's sake. When he expressed his desires to me, I tried to be approving, but all I could do was force a grin knowing he would end up getting hurt.

The day of the party, I tried to remain preoccupied with preparations and keeping my daughter from nagging about gifts in an attempt to avoid Haytham. I listened to the quiet conversation between he and Connor from my place in the kitchen. I was alert for any signs of hostility and ready to intervene at a seconds notice. I sort of wanted an excuse to make Haytham leave. But I never got one. The men really didn't say much to each other. They spoke about Abby mostly, since she was the reason they were currently together. They also talked a little about the _Aquila_. There was a note of distension in Connor's voice when he mentioned the repairs that had been required, but the topic was quickly taken over by Abby, who had to tell her grandfather about what a great sailor she was.

“Rake:ni lets me steer the ship,” she stated proudly. “Ista says I do better than he does. Even though he has to hold me up or I cannot see.”

The memories of our trips to Nantucket which she was referring to made me grin. Abby loved being on the sea almost as much as her father did. That fact overjoyed Connor. When he let her hold the wheel, he would put his hat on her head and call her captain. The crew went along with this eagerly. Everyone loved Abby. Especially Bobby Faulkner. They listened to her when she shouted orders just as they did Connor. It was adorable.

Abby never being one to stay indoors much, the lot of them eventually made their way outside, leaving me alone to icing the cake without any fingers trying to sneak dips in the frosting. Not being much of an artist with pastries, the cake turned out too plain for my liking. I knew Abby wouldn't care since it was all chocolate – she loved it more than I did, but I rarely let her have any. My creativity took over and I began to form small flowers on top of the cake with some plain frosting I had left over. It became a bigger job than I had anticipated, taking quite a bit of time to finish. I was so intent on my project that I didn't even hear the door open or the footsteps that entered the room I was occupying.

“Would you care for some help?”

I jumped at the voice, letting out a startled curse as I gazed at Haytham in shock. I took a moment to steady my heart while I berated myself for letting him creep up on me the way he had. It was common for Connor to do such things to me, and I had gotten somewhat accustomed to my husband's pleasant ways of surprising me when I wasn't expecting it. But that was different. I didn't mind Connor being stealthy because I knew I was safe with him. Haytham, on the other hand, I wasn't so sure about. He was not the type of person I wanted to have the ability to sneak up on me.

Haytham must have noticed my displeasure at his unexpected presence. He gave me a slight grin that led me to believe he was satisfied with my suspicion. It was an expression that did nothing to ease my discomfort. If anything, it intensified my lack of trust for the man who claimed he was family.

“I apologize,” he said with feigned sincerity. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

I let out a quick huff through my nose and favored him with a calm stare. “You don't scare me, Haytham.”

Without losing that unnerving grin he had on his face, Haytham nodded at me slowly. “Good.”

I looked away, busying myself with cleaning up the mess I had made in my artsy decoration of my daughter's birthday cake while he watched me from the doorway. His stare made me uncomfortable, but I didn't want him to know that. I wanted Haytham to think he had no effect on me, that he could do nothing that bothered me. So, I took my time, wiping all the icing off the table and making everything appear neat as I pretended to ignore my guest.

“I'm curious,” Haytham spoke after a time. “How did you and Connor meet?”

I glanced up at the man. My past was certainly not a topic I wanted to discuss with him and the details surrounding my involvement with Connor would only raise more questions than they would answer. I declined to be specific in an explanation and simply told him that Achilles introduced us. It wasn't a lie. Achilles had made the introduction between the two of us. I only declined to admit that events surrounding the introduction.

“Ah,” Haytham replied. “And how is it that you came to know Achilles?”

My initial inclination was to tell him that it was none of his business. With some difficulty, I maintained a civil air and thought of another way to answer. “He offered me a job when I needed one.”

“That's fortunate,” Haytham murmured.

I frowned at him. His tone, mixed with such an ironic expression, gave me the impression he wasn't being honest. Or that he had something he wanted to say on the subject. It irritated me as I thought he had not right to even hold an opinion, let alone voice one. I doubted his thoughts were positive considering his past with the man in question. That - mixed with a desire to disagree with him – made me speak.

“How so?”

Haytham shrugged as if it was not a big deal, as if he had just been talking idly about nothing more important than weather. “I was merely musing on how one seemingly insignificant meeting can manifest into a life altering event.”

With the feeling that I had been insulted, I narrowed my eyes at him. “See it how you want. Staying here was the best decision I've ever made.”

“Of course,” Haytham responded unenthusiastically.

I gazed at him, unable to shake the offensive vibe I was getting from his. The fact that he didn't like Achilles and that Achilles had neglected to show up when he should have been welcomed because of Haytham made me angry. I think Haytham sensed that. I know he had some intuition that I was aggravated. And what was more, he seemed to be enjoying my foul mood. It was like it pleased him to see me unhappy – to see anyone unhappy. That was one of the reasons I said what I did.

“Think what you want, but Achilles is a great man – better than you in every way.”

I hadn't expected Haytham to respond positively to being insulted. I anticipated some sort of passive aggressive retort from him, and prepared myself for such a remark. What I didn't expect was the bemused chuckle that followed my statement. It caused me to stare at Haytham with a confused and startled expression he pleased him.

“How much do you really know about that 'great man' you care so much for, Faith?” he asked. Before I could compose a reply, he continued speaking. “You have some fantastical notion that he does no wrong when know very well he has taken multiple lives.”

“He did what he felt was right,” I answered in return.

“As do we all,” Haytham said.

I wasn't sure what to say to that. So, I said nothing. That gladdened him. I could tell by the benevolent glint in his eye that Haytham had a point to make and thought he was doing a good job of driving it home. He aimed to cause tension between Achilles and me – possibly all of us. For what reason I wasn't sure. But I knew that was his intent.

“This noble man you admire so greatly is not without fault,” Haytham spoke. “His ignorance has claimed the lives of thousands of innocent people. His own hubris is what led to the downfall of the Order he devoted his life to. He is no more virtuous than I, yet you defend him blindly because he – what was it? - gave you a job. Allowed you to live in his house, share his food. You think of him as a father, but has he ever really taken on the role of one with you?”

“Yes,” I stated in defiance.

There was a short silence where Haytham watched me with expectancy, as if wanting me to explain. As if he wanted me to give an example of how Achilles had acted as a parent to me. It was both shocking and infuriating that I could come up with no such recollection at the moment. My thoughts were on what Haytham had said, on the tale he had told me. It was a part of the old man's past I had never considered before – the events surrounding the decay of the Colonial Assassins and the mentor's part in it. I began to wonder what had taken place. I was struck with a desire to know the story.

I met Haytham's eye, saw he was still gazing at me with patience. I licked my lips and said the only thing I could. “Achilles loves me.”

Haytham's mouth opened and he began to reply. Before he could, Abby came running into the house to tell us that the guests were arriving and it was time to start the party. The man gave me one fleeting grin that was not out of kindness and turned away. I composed myself and tried to remember what all needed to be done as the boys and Maria came inside, each of them chatting with excitement about the festivities to come.

I was in a daze for most of the party. My mind was preoccupied by my discussion with Haytham and Achilles' absence. I wanted to go see the old man. I wanted to talk to him. I vowed to do just that when I took him is cake later this eventing. I made the decision to question him about what Haytham said, and what happened with the Order all those years ago. Part of me knew it didn’t really matter. I wasn't an Assassin. Their past shouldn't matter to me. But that history did concern a man I cared about – two of them, in fact. I felt that made it my business. I deserved some insight as to why my father in law was making claims about Achilles and why he was so adamant about convincing Connor that the Templars were a more noble group. I knew he had it in his mind to change my husband's point of view. I knew the truce between Connor and Haytham was a ploy to get the Assassin to renounce his title. I just didn't know how to make Connor see that. I suppose that was a lesson he would have to learn on his own.

 


	39. Better or Worse - 1778

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry update took so long. Been hectic lately.

Fall brought an uncommon amount of dreary, overcast days that did nothing to lighten the solemn moods that clung to the occupants of the Davenport homestead like a dark cloud. It seemed like everyone's temper was foul and precarious. The death of Kanen'to:kon was hard on all of us, but none more than Connor. Considering it was by my husband's hand that his best friend had died made me sympathetic to his long periods of quiet mourning, but Abby's constant questions about her grandfather had me wanting her father to do something other than vacate the room when she wondered why she couldn't see Haytham anymore. It was trying for me to attempt to explain the situation to her in a soothing and polite way. What I really wanted to do was to tell Abby that Haytham was a horrible man and he didn't care about her. But I couldn't bring myself to say something like that to my daughter. Even if it was true, I couldn't relate the harsh reality of how things were to an innocent child who didn't know what hate was. Someday – when she was old enough to understand – I would tell Abby the real reason her grandfather stopped visiting her. But now was not the time. Now, she needed a lie. She needed to hold on to the belief that people were good.

Though Connor was home much of the time, he was distant. He rarely took part in anything Abby and I did. He spent most of his days hunting, training, wandering in the woods. He would come home around dinner time, eat a little then go to his study. The nights he came to bed, he did so very late, after I was already asleep. But the majority of mornings I would get up and find him still sitting at his desk, focused on whatever he was doing and looking like a ragged shadow of the warrior he was.

Not having much success myself in coaxing Connor to do anything other than Assassin business, I decided to let Abby give it a shot. If I needed Connor for anything – no matter how silly or mundane – I would have our little girl go get him. It was my hope that the requests would mean more coming from her. It was the special bond between the two of them that I believed would bring Connor out of his depression. I relied on his love for her to help him see that he still had a life worth taking part in.

After a few weeks of little progress, I began to get impatient. And Abby began to decline to take part in my ploy. No matter how much I begged her to be persistent, Abby refused to do as I wanted. She had gotten used to the constant rejection and decided it was best to not even ask her father for anything. What angered me most about her opinion was the dejected expression that accompanied her negative response. That's what gave me the resolve to finally confront Connor.

Being fairly certain the overdue conversation with my husband would become an argument, I sent Abby to spend the night with Achilles. I thought it would be best if we had some privacy during our discussion. Also, if Connor chose to ignore me and leave, not having Abby here gave me the freedom to follow him. I realized it might be a little insensitive to force a confrontation, but I wasn't one to give up easily. I had it in my head that I was going to support Connor whether he wanted me to or not. He had done the same to me once. Turn about was fair play.

As per usual, Connor was holed up in his study until late that evening. He declined my invitation to supper, saying he wasn't hungry. Gaining such a response, I finished my chores, took Achilles some food – along with his overnight guest – and approached my husband. I didn't bother knocking or pausing at the doorway for permission to enter, I only went into the study and stood across the desk from Connor. I waited for a moment to see if he would acknowledge my presence before speaking. After getting only a quick glance up from the brown eyes that were so filled with distracted emotion, I crossed my arms and sighed loudly.

“It's not good for you to do this,” I said.

Connor met my gaze, a soft frown of fake confusion on his features. His lips parted as though he aimed to contradict me on the point I had made, but no words were uttered. The only sound that escaped him was the faint exhale of a exasperated breath that let me know he was in no mood to talk.

But I was. I let him know I wouldn't be deterred so easily by leaning over the desk, resting my hands on top of the documents scattered before him. Connor's expression became stony at the interruption. I ignored the defiant look on his face.

“Stop shutting us out,” I told him.

I deliberately used the plural pronoun to inform him that if wasn't just for myself that I was concerned for. I had our daughter's best interests in mind as well. I wanted him to understand that his actions were affecting her as much – perhaps more – than me.

“I am not shutting you out, Faith,” Connor replied. There was a tinge of ire in his voice, one I had gotten used to hearing the last three months. One I was sick of hearing. “I am...working.”

“Is that what you call it?” I asked sardonically.

His response to that was to huff irritably and nudge my hand off the papers he had been concentrating on. That simple action irked me so very much that I found it difficult to control the urge to lash out that had building inside me for the past few weeks. I gritted my teeth and stared at him as he avoided looking at me, choosing to concentrate instead on the words written upon the parchment.

“Why won't you talk to me?” I asked in frustration.

“About what?” Connor returned in the same tone. “There is nothing to talk about.”

His choice to play ignorant about the events that had made him so morose angered me further. I knew he had spoken to Achilles about what had transpired. The old man had told me a little of what had happened in Valley Forge after I'd questioned him about the Assassin's downfall a few weeks ago. Achilles had been honest and forthright with me on the subject, regaling all he knew and his personal involvement in the actions that led to the dispersion of the Order. His honestly on everything had made me regret ever doubting him. I suppose it had been Haytham's intent to cause friction between us. I was only glad that it hadn't lasted long – glad that I could trust Achilles to tell me anything.

“I know what happened with Washington,” I told my husband. I tried to keep my voice at a pleasant octave in an attempt to show him that I could be supportive and understanding. But the scowl on his face when I mentioned the Commander had my ire rising yet again. Yet, I tried to stay calm. “And I know it was Lee's deception that led to Kanen'to:kon's death...”

I paused as Connor shot me an intense glare. He hadn't commented on his friend since he'd given me the news about his demise. It was one of the many things he refused to talk about lately. One of the things that caused him to leave the room when the topic was mentioned. Connor was avoiding dealing with his grief. He was choosing to keep all his feelings inside, just like he'd been trained to do. But I didn't feel like that was fair to me. Or to Abby.

“I know it's not something you want to talk about,” I said as sympathetically as I could. “But I do.”

Connor let out a soft breath and stood up from his seat. I could tell by his rigid stance that he was mad. Not just irritated or frustrated, but really mad. That was a side of him I didn't see often. It was common for him to voice his ire in situations, but when he got really angry, he was quiet. I didn't like to see him like that.

Without saying anything, Connor moved to the door and began to leave the office. I knew it would be best to let him go, to give him time to cool off before I tried to talk to him again, but I had put this off for so long already. I was loath to wait any longer for resolution. I wanted my husband back. I wanted us to act like a family again. So, I followed him. I followed him to the hallway and up the stairs. I followed him into the bedroom and stood at the door as he began to gather his gear. I knew he was going to leave with the excuse of hunting. I also knew that was a lie. He just wanted to get away from me. He would wander the woods, only to return when all the lights in the house were out and he thought I was asleep.

“Don't do this,” I said as he approached the door where I was standing with my arms crossed over my chest.

Connor said nothing, he only attempted to go around me. When I refused to give him space to get out of the room, he met my eyes. Inside his were a deep stony, pain that hurt me deeply.

“Move,” he ordered.

I opened my mouth with the intention of telling him no. I knew if I declined, he would resort to exiting the house through the window. I knew Connor was going to leave one way or another. It would be futile to try to get him to stay, to try to force him to talk to me. Realizing that, I pressed my back against the frame and gave him the room he needed to leave. Connor stepped by me, not pausing long enough to speak. As he made his way deliberately to the stairs, I called out to him. It surprised me that he actually hesitated when I did so. Maybe it was because my voice almost broke when I said his name.

“You're not the only one who's hurting,” I told him in a weak tone.

Connor glanced over his shoulder at me, meeting my eyes for just a second before I felt the sting of tears and looked away. A second later, I heard his footfalls as he descended the steps and the muffled sound of the door closing as he left. For a few moments, I considered going after him. That had been my plan when I began this endeavor. But my resolve had faded. I decided that I would suffer in silence, just like Connor did. It hurt that I couldn't have my husband – the man I had sworn to spend the rest of my life with – here when we needed each other. But that was how he wanted it.

As I lay in bed weeping late that night, I began to wonder if what I wanted even mattered to Connor. I honestly wasn't sure it did. Not right now.

That thought only made me cry harder.

 


End file.
